


While We Wait And Hope

by OnePartWisdom



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-03-12 02:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 55,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13537308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnePartWisdom/pseuds/OnePartWisdom
Summary: AU after season 3. Garak is killed during the Obsidian Order's attack on the Founders' homeworld; at least, that's what everyone believes. When Julian is captured by the Dominion and sent to Internment Camp 371, he's shocked to see the former tailor again.





	1. Chapter 1

In his hurry to avoid being late for his lunch appointment with Miles, Julian didn’t consider that his chosen shortcut from his quarters to the Replimat would take him directly past Garak’s old storefront until it was too late, the sight of it stopping him dead in his tracks.

Ever since the ill-fated attack on the Founders’ homeworld by the Obsidian Order, Garak’s shop had been long-deserted and emptied of its wares: a vacant, final reminder of Garak’s former presence on the Station. At first, the empty space had only provoked hushed commentaries by those who passed by, curious about the strange disappearance of the Station’s only Cardassian storeowner. Eventually, it became obvious that the store would never re-open, though, most of the Station’s inhabitants never learnt the full story behind Garak’s death, and over time the abandoned storefront was just another one of those odd fixtures on Deep Space 9; the empty space that nobody seemed to want. 

The last Julian had heard, Quark had been trying – without apparent success - to convince Captain Sisko to rent him the space for some untoward business proposal, but it appeared that now, over a year later, a new vendor was finally moving in. The shop’s shutters were no longer tightly shut, the doors were flung open once again, and a scattering of boxes took up most of the floor. It was the ill-contained chaos of a new store during the panicked few days before its opening. 

A harried-looking Bajoran woman stood in the middle of the room, closely studying the contents of a PADD that she held in her hands. She looked up, noticing Julian’s blatant stare, and gave him a hesitant wave. Julian flushed – embarrassed - and returned the woman’s wave before quickly moving along. 

He walked a few paces away, then stopped unobtrusively beside the corridor wall to lean heavily against it. While the corridors leading to the Promenade were as crowded and busy as ever, he stood lost in thought as if unaware of his surroundings. Swarms of people brushed by him, talking excitedly in small, slow-moving groups or walking with single-minded determination to get where they needed to be. The rest of the Station carrying on while he stood frozen in place, thinking of the past. 

He wasn’t sure he was ready for this. 

The fact that Garak’s store had stood empty for so long had long been a source of comfort, as though he could still drop by at any time for a brief chat or with an open invitation to lunch. That Garak would still be there, despite it all. That would all change now. Permanently. It was irrevocable proof that Garak would never be coming back.

His shoulders fell in a defeated slump as his frustration mounted, threatening to overtake his sudden grief. He felt foolish. This wasn’t anything to get so upset about - it had only been an empty storefront after all, and it had been that way for over a year. Walking by it now, no one would even know that it had once belonged to Garak. A new vendor should come as no surprise - it had only been a matter of time, really, before this was going to happen. What was remarkable was that the store had stood unused and empty for as long as it had.

It felt like a step backwards. He thought he had been getting better; he had barely even thought about Garak unprompted over the past few months, but it seemed a part of him hadn’t really expected to see someone move into Garak’s old shop one day, nor had he ever expected that inevitability to affect him so much. And the truth was that it was affecting him. Far more than he felt comfortable admitting. The realization of its impeding loss was like a sudden blow to his chest, one that persisted and transformed itself into a dull ache; a weight that only grew heavier and heavier. 

_Calm down, Doctor._

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing himself to relax. He still had lunch with Miles to get to, and he couldn’t show up in this condition. He must look hysterical. He closed his eyes and continued to keep his breathing deep and controlled until he felt his neck muscles gradually unclench. 

“Doctor Bashir?” 

Hearing his name without warning and from such close quarters knocked Julian out of his concentration. His eyes snapped open and he straightened up as he pushed himself away from the wall. He spun around to see Odo standing directly behind him, staring at him with an inquisitive tilt of the head.

“Odo!” he exclaimed loudly, bringing a hand to rest on his chest. “You startled me.” 

Odo gave Julian a scrutinizing look, the same one that he used whenever he was confronted with some baffling humanoid behaviour. 

“Are you alright, Doctor? You seem…flustered.” 

Julian managed a shaky smile, coupled with a slight shake of the head as if admonishing himself for a minor mishap. 

“I’m perfectly fine, Constable. I only thought I had forgotten something in the Infirmary. I’ll be on my way in just a moment.” 

It was a bold lie. One that he wasn’t entirely sure Odo would accept without questioning him given how he must've looked. A second or two passed as Odo looked at Julian doubtfully and with what could have been a tinge of concern, but he didn’t try to argue. He gave Julian a firm, brisk nod and stepped around him to continue silently down the corridor. Julian watched Odo walk away until he was swallowed up by the crowd and disappeared from sight. 

He sighed, suddenly exhausted. All he wanted was to return to his quarters and spend the rest of his evening alone. He brushed the thought aside before he could entertain the idea for very long. It wasn’t a real possibility. A last-minute cancellation would only invite questions from Miles, and he was already late enough as it was. 

In a way, Julian wasn’t phased. After all, he had spent the last year proving to everyone that he was fine. He could cope with another few hours.

Julian steeled himself and re-entered the crowd, headed towards the Replimat.

 

Miles was already seated and waiting for him, scanning the crowded sitting area with a look of mild concern, when Julian finally arrived at the Replimat. The Station's Chief Engineer broke into a relieved smile when he spotted Julian and waved him over to the table that he had reserved for them. Julian put all thoughts of the new shop owner and of Garak out of his mind, approaching the table with a grin and an apologetic shrug of the shoulders. 

“I almost thought you weren’t going to be coming,” Miles said accusingly, sporting a wide smile to show he wasn’t actually upset. 

Miles must have taken it upon himself to get Julian his meal, because a tray filled with some of his favourite Bolian dishes was already positioned in front of his seat. Miles took a bite of his own half-finished meal and leaned back in his chair, gesturing at Julian to take a seat. 

“Sorry, Miles,” Julian said contritely as he sat down across from his friend. “I have to be ready to go first thing tomorrow and time just sort of… got away from me while I was packing.” 

Miles didn’t waste his opportunity to poke fun at Julian. 

“Let me guess, you’re one of those people who have to drag along almost everything they own in case they might need it? You’re just as bad as Keiko.”

Julian laughed and shook his head. 

“No, no. It’s just been a busy few days at the Infirmary - I left everything until the last minute, as usual. I didn’t even realize that I was to be leaving tomorrow until Nurse Jabara brought it up at the end of my shift yesterday.” 

Miles looked at him sharply. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be working yesterday?” 

Julian shrugged. “I wasn’t originally scheduled to be, but you know how it is Miles, someone always seems to need their shift covered at the last minute, and it’s easier if I just do it myself.” 

Julian dug into his own meal, steadfastly ignoring the skeptical and dismayed look that he knew Miles was sending his way. 

Over the past year, Miles had frequently accused Julian of working too hard and for too long. It was an old argument now, and one that had the potential to get heated very quickly. Once Miles had even accused Julian of failing in his duty as the Station’s Chief Medical Officer; that his exhaustion from over-work would one day put his patients at risk. Julian had stormed away when Miles had said that, and the two of them had barely talked for days until Jadzia had forced their reconciliation. 

The funny thing was that Miles had it all wrong. It wasn’t the work that had been the problem: it was the quiet moments that were the worst. The work was one of the few things Julian could rely on to keep his mind occupied. While he knew that throwing oneself into work wasn’t the soundest coping mechanism, he also wasn’t nearly as exhausted as everyone assumed. He owed his ability to work for such long hours to his genetic enhancements, but he couldn’t very well admit that. 

They’d cautiously avoided the topic ever since that disastrous argument, and Julian had made more of an effort to work only during his scheduled shifts. Still, it remained a long-standing sore point between them, and it was an argument that Julian wasn’t interested in resuming. Luckily, at least for today, neither was Miles. 

“So, remind me again where it is it you’ll be going?” Miles asked, quickly changing the subject. 

“I’ll be attending a burn treatment conference on Meezan Four. It’ll mostly be a lot of presentations and roundtable discussions, but some of the most prestigious doctors in the field will be there. It should be interesting.” 

Julian almost winced over his delivery. The words were right, but he couldn’t have sounded less excited when, a week ago, he had been truly animated and brimming with excitement whenever he talked about his upcoming attendance at the conference. Now, mustering up the enthusiasm he once had seemed an impossible task. 

Thankfully, Miles carried on as if he hadn’t noticed. “So, they might even teach you a thing or two that you don’t already know,” he teased.

“That’s the hope,” Julian responded, a smile pulling at his lips over Miles’ good-natured dig. 

He surveyed the Replimat for a moment, and his mind wandered back to Garak as he remembered their many lunches together in this same spot. When he turned back to Miles, his smile had faded away. “And to be honest, it might be nice to get away from the Station for a few days, just to have a break.” 

Miles nodded sagely. “Aye, it’s always nice to get away from here now and again. It’ll make coming home all the better.” 

Miles looked around the Replimat as if to make sure he couldn’t be overheard before he leaned in towards the center of the table with a concerned look on his face. “Just make sure you take care of yourself out there. It’s getting pretty dangerous what with the Jem’Hadar and Klingons becoming more and more bold.”

Julian nodded, genuinely appreciative of Miles’ concern, but he didn’t feel worried. The small runabout he’d be taking wasn’t worthy of much attention. 

“I’m sure that I’ll be fine, Miles. But thank you.”

The two friends sat together and finished their meals, comfortable with one another in their silence. Despite their recent spate of arguments, Julian really was grateful to have Miles as a friend. He’d gone up and beyond what a friend should be expected to do since Garak’s death. Really, all of his colleagues – without exception – had been incredibly supportive after Garak had been killed, although none of them had particularly liked Garak all that much. It was as if they had all realized better than Julian just how much he was reeling from Garak’s death, even if Julian refused to talk about it much. 

When they had returned from the Gamma Quadrant, Commander Sisko – Captain Sisko now - had advised Julian to take all the time he needed before he returned to duty. While Julian had turned down the offer, he had been touched by the gesture all the same. Even Odo had sought him out, near apologetic that he hadn’t gone back for Garak before the Romulan ship was destroyed by Jem’Hadar fighters. Julian thought that going back for Garak would have been useless anyways; he hadn’t needed three years worth of lunches with the man to realize that Garak had had a serious stubborn streak and wouldn’t have left the bridge unless he was forced. 

But Miles had been his greatest support over the past year, even if he did badger him a bit too much about his health. He had always known when not to push the subject or force Julian to talk, which was all the better when Julian couldn’t so much as admit to himself that he was grieving. Only once had the topic nearly been brought up. Over a few glasses of scotch, Miles had spoken to him about having to deal with the personal aftermath of Setlik III, of how he had dealt with the loss of friends and colleagues who had died during that battle. His experiences rang painfully true for Julian, but Miles’ admission had also, in its own strange way, helped. Mostly though, Miles had treated him like normal, and that had been just what Julian had needed. 

He was a very lucky man. 

Julian snapped out of his reverie when Miles suddenly slapped one hand down on the table, a playful gleam alight in his eye. 

“Well, do you think you’ll have time for one last round of beer and darts after you finish that meal? Get a match or two in before you leave?” 

Julian put down his fork and gave Miles a warm smile. 

“I think that can be arranged.” 

 

As was typical whenever Miles and Julian went to Quarks, one drink easily turned into two more and each round of darts became less seriously competitive even as they kept trying to one-up the other. They even managed to draw quite the crowd of spectators who where entertained by their ridiculous antics until late in evening when Miles finally had to beg off and return to his quarters. 

It had, overall, been a good time. But whereas the drinks had left him feeling loosened up and relaxed when he left Quarks, his dark thoughts quickly resurfaced upon returning to his quarters and sobering up a little. He had nothing to distract him, and he leaned into his misery for the second time that day. 

He sat askew in his armchair, impassively studying a small data rod that he held in his hand, which contained a small selection of Cardassian novels. They weren’t even particularly good novels, at least in Julian’s opinion, only a few Cardassian enigma tales that Garak had forcibly loaned him while firmly ignoring any of Julian’s protests that he honestly didn’t much enjoy them. 

_“Doctor, how can you ever hope to understand Cardassian culture if you cannot at least appreciate a good enigma tale?”_

Julian smiled, remembering Garak’s mock-outrage that he loved to use to underscore a point during their many arguments. He felt a sharp twist in his chest at the memory. 

He considered the data rod in his hands - the only real keepsake that he had left to remember Garak by. Even the nightmares that had interrupted his sleep for months on end had gradually stopped. He shuddered reflecting on them again: nightmares of the Romulan ship exploding while Julian watched helplessly from aboard the Defiant. Other times, but thankfully more rarely, his nightmares had forced him to relive Garak’s murder by Jem’Hadar soldiers during the simulation created by the Founders. He was glad that he could finally sleep in peace again. 

But a data rod wasn’t much, _it wasn’t enough_ , and he wished he had something else. He almost regretted having given Garak back his gift of Delavian chocolates before Garak had boarded the runabout with Odo, but he supposed the chance to see the surprised but pleased expression on Garak’s face had been well worth the price of returning it. As far as final memories went, it was a good one. 

Julian reluctantly put the data rod aside as he stood up, stretching. It was late; he needed to get to sleep soon if he wanted to wake up and leave on time. He was about to make his way to the bedroom when the chime to his quarters rang. Surprised, he went to answer it without first asking who it was. He opened the door with a quizzical look and found, to his surprise, Jadzia waiting on the other side.

“Hey, Julian,” she said, looking a touch sheepish to see him out of uniform and already dressed for bed. “I’m sorry if this is a bad time… I can come back later if you’d like?”

Julian scoffed good-naturedly at the question and shook his head. “You know it’s never any trouble to get a visit from you, please come in.” He turned to his side and ushered her into his quarters. “I can stay up a little while longer.” 

“Ah, the advantages of youth,” Jadzia teased as she entered and went to settle herself on his sofa. After she refused Julian’s offer of a drink, Julian sat down in the armchair across from her, clasping his hands in front of him as he silently wondered why Jadzia had come.

“I thought that you and Worf had a holosuite session booked for tonight?” he asked, curious and hoping to get more of an explanation about her unexpected appearance. 

Jadzia smiled with a shy grin, obviously smitten with the stoic Klingon officer. “We do for later tonight, but I wanted to see how you were doing first before you left for your conference.”

“Fine, fine. Against all odds I’ve finished packing and I’m ready to leave in the morning.” 

“I’m relieved to hear it,” Jadzia said, following her words with a quiet laugh that didn’t quite meet her eyes. 

She shifted anxiously in her seat and folded her arms with a sigh as an awkward pause descended on the conversation. Julian had rarely ever seen her look so apprehensive about speaking her mind. It was so very unlike her that it was unnerving. 

Julian sighed. “I have a feeling you stopped by for a reason other than to make sure I’m ready for the conference tomorrow.”

Jadzia nodded, relieved that he had been the one to broach the subject. “Well, it’s true that I did come to check on you, but, you’re right that it’s not about whether you were ready for your conference tomorrow. Miles commed me about an hour ago. He was a little worried about you - he said you seemed a bit unfocused at lunch today.” She shifted again in her seat, clearly weighing how best to phrase what she wanted to say next. “I wondered if it had anything to do with the new shop opening in Garak’s old store.”

Julian frowned and leaned back in his chair. “Of course not. If anything, I was just tired from my shift this morning and because I left packing so late.” 

“Odo might have also mentioned to me that he saw you on your way to the Replimat. He said you looked unwell.” 

Julian swallowed, his throat uncomfortably tight. He looked away, his mouth a hard line. “You know, Jadzia, I don’t think that it’s fair of the three of you to be talking about me like this, without me being aware of it. I don’t need checking up on.” 

“We’re only concerned, Julian,” Jadzia soothed. “You were Garak’s friend, you’re allowed to be upset.”

“I’m not upset, and that’s not the issue right now.”

“You are clearly upset! The problem is you don’t ever want to seem as if you were affected by his death.”

Julian clenched his jaw and forced himself to hold her gaze again. When he spoke, his voice was cold and uncompromising. 

“Garak was not my friend, Jadzia. I was – at best – only a convenient distraction to him. There was nothing to our relationship beyond a few shared lunches together.” 

Jadzia looked unconvinced. He had said those same lines before, many times, and it had become increasingly apparent that no one believed him, if they ever did. His grief had been too badly-hidden, and they had failed to deal with it for too long. 

“Except, it’s been over a year later and you’re still grieving because you haven’t let yourself really deal with it. It’s obvious that his death has had a huge effect on you. This is your first major loss since you joined Starfleet.” She lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Trust me, Julian. I’ve lost many friends over my lives and I know that if you just talk about it with someone it might help you start to get better.” 

Julian shook his head, furious, even though he understood that Jadzia, Miles and Odo were only concerned about his wellbeing. But that same concern had been expressed so many times that it had begun to feel more like a beacon of light that was constantly putting him in the spotlight, while those around him over-analyzed his every move and emotion. It was exhausting, feeling like he always had to prove to Jadzia and Miles that he was okay.

And Jadzia was wrong; it wasn’t something worth talking about. Grief was an ugly thing, and his feelings for Garak were so conflicted that trying to put what he didn’t understand into words would be a frustrating and pointless endeavor. 

The easiest thing to do was to avoid talking about Garak’s death altogether, to carry on as he always had and let those unresolved feelings fade away. That strategy had worked so far. He wasn’t miserable all the time; he still met with his friends, he still dated, and he was still fully capable of performing his duties. If sometimes he felt a little unhappy, that shouldn’t mean a Jadzia-staged intervention.

Today had only been a setback. He would get over it. 

“I really don’t want to talk about this right now, Jadzia,” he told her, his voice now mild and controlled as he tried to reign in his anger. “I’m leaving for the conference in less than ten hours and I really need to get to sleep.”

“When you get back then,” she said, as if it were a firm commitment. She tentatively took hold of Julian’s tightly-closed hand and gave it a brief squeeze before releasing it. “You know I wouldn’t raise this if I wasn’t actually worried,” she said as if she were pleading with him to understand. 

“I know,” Julian said, not unkindly, offering a weak smile that Jadzia returned, sadness colouring her features before giving way to her typical stubborn resolve. 

“Alright,” she said decisively, “when you get back from the conference, we’ll talk.” Jadzia stood from her seat and Julian followed suite, trailing after her until they reached the door to his quarters. She gave him a long, firm hug and then looked up at him seriously. “Please take care of yourself, Julian. I know you think that you’re not, but you’re pushing yourself too hard these days.” 

He gave a faint smile and softly wished her a good night, closing the door to his quarters behind her. He waited by the door, silently, until he heard her walk away with a heavy sigh. 

 

Julian was still quietly fuming when he boarded his runabout the next morning, his anger crystallizing into something hard and unyielding that he obsessed over throughout his entire journey to Meezan Four. Jadzia’s visit had felt like an ambush that Julian had had no chance of winning. For her to explain to him how he was feeling and then to dictate how he should deal with it, well, it wasn’t fair, especially right before he was about to leave for a four-day conference. 

At the very least, the conference ended up being an excellent distraction, far exceeding his initial expectations. Rather then being an overly-dry and bureaucratic affair, there were some genuinely interesting presentations and discussions. It was even a personal success for Julian as he managed to meet many well-known specialists from across the entire quadrant. Some of them even knew of him and expressed their admiration for his medical successes. It was exactly the kind of distraction he had been hoping for when he was first invited to attend, and his angry feelings slowly ebbed away as his return date to the Station drew closer.

On his final night at the conference, an uncomfortable sense of shame had come to replace his earlier anger. Maybe it was the benefit of the space and time to really think about where things stood, but he was starting to realize that Jadzia may have been right after all: a conversation was long overdue. Most of the time he was fine, but the smallest thing that reminded him of Garak had the potential to set him off. When he hadn’t been withdrawn from his friends or working around the clock, he had been snappish and rude. His friends had been walking on eggshells around him while they respected his wishes not to talk about Garak’s death. Now, anyone could rightly judge that this approach had done more harm than good. 

He stared out of the window of his guest quarters, his gaze lost amongst the stars. He would always remember Garak, but his life had to move forward. He couldn’t stay stuck in the past. 

He walked over to his suitcase, picking up the data rod that he had brought with him, that he brought with him everywhere. He fiddled with it in his hands, hating the feelings it stirred. He walked over to the replicator and set the data rod down in the disposal area. His finger hovered in the air in front of the control panel as he wondered if he would come to regret what he was about to do next. 

A fresh wave of determination reinforced him. No more excuses, he resolved to himself. It was time to stop avoiding the inevitable and start moving forward with his life. 

His decision now made, he let out a deep breath as he entered the settings into the controller panel, forging ahead before he could change his mind. He hesitated again for only a moment before initiating the disposal sequence, and he watched the data rod hum out of existence. It took less than a second, and then the last memento he had of Garak was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone reading this! I hope you enjoy the new chapter.
> 
> No beta. I did a few read-throughs but I'm sure a few spelling/grammar errors got by me.

Something was very wrong. 

Julian knew this before he had even fully awoken, before he had even opened his eyes. 

The feeling that he was no longer in his guest quarters on Meezan Four was unshakeable. Everything about the room he was in felt slightly off: a draft of warm, dry air brushed against his cheek when his guest quarters had been kept at a much cooler temperature, and he could hear the din of multiple conversations from far away, a barely audible undercurrent that disturbed the stillness of the room. 

He didn’t know where he was, and the worst thing was there was nothing he could do to find out. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t open his eyes. He could barely manage a coherent thought. As though he was waking up from a deep sleep or a drugged haze. 

Panic distantly threatened to set in, but his eyes remained stubbornly shut. A deep breath and out, and then Julian tried mentally retracing his steps, hoping it might help him figure out where he was and how he got there.

The conference had only wrapped up the night before, but he had been too tired after another full day of activity and socializing to even contemplate returning to the Station. He had retired to his guest quarters late in the evening with plans to leave first thing in the morning. After making sure his belongings were all in order, he had sat up another hour to read. That was the last thing he remembered. He couldn't recall actually going to bed. 

If he could, he would have grit his teeth in frustration over his lapse in memory. There had to be some explanation – something he was missing. Maybe he had been injured at some point that evening or during his trip back to the Station and had needed to be sedated? That could explain the gap in his memory. 

In the back of Julian’s mind, he knew that wasn’t what had happened. It didn’t add up. All signs pointed to him being in more serious trouble. 

Which meant that the most important thing that he could do right now was figure out where he was. But he was still frozen in place, even when he concentrated with all his might on only wriggling his foot. At the very least, the sedation’s slowing effects on his thoughts was starting to wear off. The issue was it had the added disadvantage of intensifying his frustration over his inability to move. 

So, he waited. 

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, disoriented and barely-conscious, but with each passing moment he became increasingly aware of his growing discomfort. He lay on his side on a small and scratchy surface, sprawled in an awkward position as if he had been picked up and then carelessly set down again. His back ached fiercely, and the pain warred with a dull throb in his head that made it difficult for him to concentrate. 

Finally, his eyes fluttered open and he blinked blurrily, struggling to get a better view of his surroundings through the dim light that obscured most of the room. He groaned as he tried to sit up, failing in the first attempt before he was able to balance unsteadily on one elbow. 

He managed only a brief look of the room that gave him no real information - he was forced to quickly close his eyes again when a sudden wave of dizziness nearly overwhelmed him. He hunched over onto his side and tightly clenched his eyes shut, hoping that would ease his lightheadedness. It worked, and when the dizziness subsided, Julian slowly opened his eyes once again, even more determined to figure out where he was.

He was disheartened by what he saw. The room was small, cramped, and entirely unfamiliar. It held only the basic necessities one would find in a holding cell. Its steel and grey-coloured walls were bordered by five other bunks, all empty, with one alarming exception. 

Julian’s eyes settled on the solitary figure who was sitting on a bunk only a short distance away and watching him with very clear interest, though most of his face was hidden by shadow.

Instantly, Julian was fully alert. A rush of adrenaline rushed through him as he adopted a more guarded posture that was at odds with how helpless and exposed he felt. He worried that his sudden movement might’ve only served to unintentionally provoke the other person, a real concern when he could barely hold himself upright much less fight off a determined attacker. 

He squinted his eyes in an effort to get a better view of the other person so he could start to figure out if they were a friend or an enemy. Slowly, his vision adapted to the darkness and his eyes widened in shocked recognition. 

“General Martok?” Julian rasped in confusion, his throat and mouth so dry that it hurt to speak. He coughed to clear his throat and pulled himself up into a seated position on the flimsy cot, his back protesting, and stood up shakily. 

Upon hearing his name spoken aloud, Martok emerged from the darkness looking at Julian with a mixture of suspicion and surprise. The Klingon’s standoffish demeanor and his ruined eye took Julian aback, until he realized that he and the real Martok had likely never met. That this was the first time Martok had ever laid eyes on him. 

“How is it that you know my name?” Martok demanded in accusation. “Who are you?!”

He quickly advanced upon Julian, who at least had had enough experience with Klingons that he wasn’t intimidated by Martok’s crowding of his personal space. He put both his hands behind his back and calmly but firmly stood his ground before attempting to explain himself in a tone that didn’t betray how impatient he was to get answers of his own. 

“My name is Dr. Julian Bashir; I’m the Chief Medical Officer aboard Deep Space Nine. I met you there for the first time over one year ago, at least, I thought I did at the time.” 

“I have never been aboard Deep Space Nine,” Martok replied flatly, his eyes narrowed. “And I have never met nor ever laid eyes on you before.”

The expression on his face changed dramatically from that of suspicion to irritation, as if he had just had a profoundly irksome realization. “Then the Cardassian was right! The Changelings have replaced us,” he spat furiously. He raised his voice in anger, his fists clenched at his side. “Those cowards sent a Changeling to act in my place rather than face the Klingons head-on in battle!”

Julian grimaced. “I’m afraid that’s true – but you should know that the Changeling who had taken your place was uncovered by my colleagues and by the Klingon High Council. He’s no longer a threat.” 

Martok fists unclenched and he backed away a few paces to give Julian some breathing room. Evidently, he had decided that Julian was a friend, or at least he was no threat to him. His anger was still noticeable, but it was a controlled fury, having been at least partly reassured by the news that the Changeling had been discovered and exposed. His voice when he spoke was level and composed. 

“Then you have my thanks, Doctor Bashir, and presumably the thanks of the Klingon Empire.”

Julian nodded in response, but he was desperate to change the subject to get any information that would explain where he was. 

“Can you tell me what and where this place is?” Julian asked urgently. He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned in closer to Martok. “The last thing I remember I was in my guest quarters on Meezan Four while I was attending a medical conference, how can I be here?”

Martok regarded Julian with a resigned look as if he was about to deliver distressing news. He placed a comforting hand on Julian’s shoulder. 

“I can’t tell you how you came to be imprisoned, but my story is like yours - the last thing I remember was hunting Saber bear on Kang’s Summit, then I woke up here, without any memory of how that came to happen.”

“And where is here?”

“A prison camp run by the Dominion, guarded by Jem’Hadar soldiers. Internment Camp 371.” 

“How long have you been imprisoned here?” 

“Two years.” 

Two years. Julian collapsed back down on his cot even as it aggravated the soreness in his back. His mind was spinning. It seemed unbelievable, or at least, he didn’t want to believe it was true. Except now Julian was a prisoner here too. He covered his eyes with one hand and hung his head as he tried to process his newfound situation. 

Martok clapped him heavily on the back and Julian let out an involuntary huff of air, his eyes watering from the blow. “Do not despair,” Martok said heartily. “There is always a chance of escape.”

Julian couldn’t begin to guess how Martok could be so optimistic after two years trapped in this place and after having just learnt that a Changeling had been impersonating him for almost that entire length of time. He felt sick to his stomach, his head and back still ached fiercely, and he was perfectly content to be miserable as he tried to come to terms with his imprisonment. 

Martok gave an irritated huff when Julian failed to respond. “Come,” he ordered, unwilling to indulge Julian by letting him wallow. “There is no use in dwelling over what cannot be changed. There is still much that you should see outside of the barracks.” 

After another vigorous slap on the back, Martok pulled Julian up by the arm and, to Julian’s surprise, led him out of the room. 

The doors slammed behind them as they entered an area far larger than what Julian had been expecting, though it was just as dark, bleak and oppressive as the barracks. It was filled with dozens of other prisoners, all of them gathered in small, subdued groups so they could mutter amongst themselves. There were prisoners from almost every single major species in the Alpha Quadrant, an observation that worried Julian immensely. He wondered if this was any indication of the number of Changelings that were out there, with the carte blanche to act freely under the guise of another person and leaving their captive’s friends and family none the wiser. It was unsettling to be confronted with the enormity of the Dominion’s power. 

“This area is called the compound,” Martok explained as Julian took in his new surroundings with dread. “We can walk around here freely, as long as we stay within the atmospheric dome - if you try to leave, you’ll be killed within seconds. So I don't recommend that you try it.” As a gruff aside, he added, “While you are out here, I suggest that you take great care not try to draw any attention to yourself.”

He hadn’t been planning on it, but when Julian looked over to Martok to nod in agreement he noted the Klingon’s grim expression. 

He frowned. “And why is that?” 

“It will make it more likely that the Jem’Hadar guards will select you to fight them in the combat ring.”

“The combat ring?”

“A Jem’Hadar training tool that they use to learn the fighting techniques of each species. They believe that it lends them an edge in battle. You should avoid it at all costs - the Jem’Hadar are ruthless, and not all who go will survive. You already stand out as the only human prisoner here.” He impassively gestured at the scar tissue that covered his ruined eye. “It’s where I lost my eye, not long after I arrived.” Julian barely resisted the urge to shudder. 

Martok folded his arms and began to walk through the compound, going further ahead than any of the other prisoners dared to go. “I will show it to you to give you a glimpse of what you must avoid. There will be a contest happening now - well, if the prisoner has not been killed already.”

“Does that happen often?” Julian asked, horrified, as he scrambled to keep up with Martok’s faster stride. 

Martok considered Julian’s question with detachment. “Often enough. Prisoners cannot win when they are forced to fight in the combat ring. If they defeat a Jem’Hadar soldier, another one will take its place until the prisoner either surrenders or is killed. If the prisoner refuses to fight, then they will be executed.”

As if on cue, a triumphant yell broke through the air as Julian and Martok rounded the corner. Martok suddenly stopped in place, throwing out his arm to caution Julian from moving any closer. Though Julian could barely see what was happening, he didn’t have any interest in going further ahead without Martok. 

“You can see the combat ring over there,” Martok muttered, pointing towards a large group of Jem’Hadar soldiers, all of them surrounding a small circular area that had two posts on either side. Facing Julian and Martok was the only Jem’Hadar in the combat ring. He was standing directly across from the unlucky prisoner chosen to fight him, who was on his knees and gasping. 

Martok pointed to the combatant Jem'Hadar next. “His name is Itak’ika,” he said dully. “The Jem’Hadar in charge of this place. Do not cross paths with him if you can help it.”

Julian's attention was drawn to the prisoner, and he fruitlessly craned his neck to try and see past the Jem'Hadar guards. He couldn't see much, only that the prisoner was swaying in place as he struggled to get from his knees to his feet. At that, the Jem’Hadar abruptly stopped yelling and watched in tense silence. 

“What are they waiting for?” Julian whispered, worried. 

“The prisoner must touch one of those posts or the match is forfeit. There is still a chance that he may succeed,” Martok whispered back. He shook his head as the seconds passed on. “But it appears that this match is over.” 

Martok was right, because the prisoner slumped over onto his hands and knees. He'd given up. Itak’ika let out a victorious shout; his arms raised over his head in triumph. The fight was over. 

Every instinct Julian had as a doctor was screaming at him to intervene, but he did nothing, biding his time until the Jem'Hadar left. Itak’ika exited the combat ring with a prideful smirk, and two Jem’ Hadar soldiers stepped inside to roughly dragged out the slumped-over figure between them. They threw him to the ground, the man falling heavily without anyone to hold him up. After receiving his congratulations from the other Jem'Hadar, Itak’ika swaggered over to sneer down at the fallen prisoner. 

The prisoner and Itak’ika exchanged words, though Julian was too far to hear them what was said between them. Whatever it was, it clearly angered Itak’ika, who delivered a swift, brutal kick to the prisoner’s mid-section. The man fell back to the ground again, and Itak’ika left him lying there without another glace. He motioned at the other guards to follow him. They left by a locked door that lead further into the compound. A smaller set of Jem’Hadar stayed behind to begin their patrols, and they shot the prisoner mocking looks as they walked past. 

The prisoner, a Cardassian from what Julian could tell from his distant vantage point, pulled himself up from the ground slowly and with great effort, gingerly wrapping his arms around his ribs. He turned towards the compound. 

Julian’s breath hitched in his throat and he took an inadvertent step backwards. Martok was speaking to him, but he didn’t hear a single word. He could only stare in shock. 

Garak, who he had long believed to be dead, was standing right in front of him. 

He looked exhausted and in pain, almost on the verge of falling over. There was no sign of the tailor’s normally fastidious appearance; his clothes were now grimier and more ragged on his noticeably thinner frame. A bruise, marred with a still-bleeding cut, took over almost the entirety of his cheek as though he had been viciously kicked at one point during the fight. 

He saw an expression of absolute surprise overtake Garak’s expression when he, too, was faced with Julian standing only a short distance away from him. They silently observed each other for a long moment, as if neither knew how to react to the other’s presence.

Julian didn’t think; he rushed over to Garak, who was here – alive! – in spite of what Julian had believed for so long. He wasn’t sure what he would do when he reached him, but he didn’t expect Garak to so coolly intercept his attempted embrace as he lightly grasped Julian’s upper arms to maintain a wide gulf between them. 

“Doctor,” Garak greeted Julian, with a hint of a fond smile, and all was instantly forgiven. 

“Garak,” Julian managed, feeling at a complete loss for words. He gripped Garak’s arms tightly as if, should he let him go, Garak would disappear in an instant. He shook his head, stunned over the fact that the man he had mourned for over a year was here. 

“I wish I could say that it is good to see you, but it seems that your fortunes have declined considerably for you to have ended up here,” Garak said quietly, as he let his arms drop away. Hesitantly, Julian let his own arms fall back to his sides and he took a wavering breath. Before he could say anything, a bellowing roar filled the air. 

“Garak!” Martok exclaimed, clearly missing the significance of their reunion as he approached the pair. “You were absent a long time, you must have fought many Jem’Hadar. Was it an honourable fight?” 

“Not as such.” Garak’s mirthless laugh was cut off by a sharp wince, and Julian could see that Garak was more injured than he was trying to let on. He touched Garak’s arm in concern and Garak looked at him in surprise at the gesture. 

“Garak, you’re injured - let me take a look at you,” Julian pleaded, but Garak was already shaking his head before Julian had even finished speaking. 

“I’m afraid that is simply out of the question right now.” Julian must have looked taken aback at the severity of his tone because Garak gently added, “I’m truly fine, Doctor. I think the Jem'Hadar were looking for a distraction instead of a real fight. It’s only a few minor bruises, easily fixed with some rest. We’ll speak afterwards, I promise.”

“He’ll be in my barracks this evening,” Martok said, cutting off Julian’s protests. “You will find him there.”

Garak shot Martok a grateful look before bringing his full attention back to Julian. “Then I’ll see you again this evening.” 

“But, Garak-”

“I’m afraid that I really must insist,” Garak responded firmly, stepping past Julian as if eager to get away from him. He gave Martok a grim nod of farewell and walked away, a slight limp to his step.

Julian almost couldn’t bear to see him walk away, and he didn’t even register that he had started moving in Garak’s direction until Martok put a restraining hand on his shoulder, keeping him in place. “Let him rest,” Martok urged him, though he said it gently. “I still have much to tell you about the camp.” 

Julian nodded to show that he had heard Martok, but he didn’t move. He never thought that he would ever see Garak again; he couldn’t just accept that this is how their reunion was going to happen. That it would be over so quickly. It felt wrong. 

He watched Garak’s retreating form and silently willed Garak to turn around, to come back so Julian could hold him again, make certain that he was real and truly alive. 

But Garak didn’t look back, not even once. Only when he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight did Julian allow Martok to finally lead him away. 

 

Later, Julian lay on his bunk in his barracks; his body was stiff and sore, and his mind was struggling to cope with all that he had learned today. He doubted that he would be able to sleep, despite Martok’s assertions after their walk that Julian should rest to recover from the shock of waking up in such changed circumstances. 

He had already been in the barracks for over an hour and, just as he had thought, there was no chance that he’d be able to fall asleep. It was still too early in the evening and, soon enough, he knew that the room would be filled with too many unfamiliar people – Martok excepting – and it was likely that not all of them would be from species friendly towards the Federation. He was alert to every single movement and sound that he could hear from outside the darkened room. 

Julian chewed the inside of his cheek as he stared up at the ceiling. His mind was alight with a dozen different questions that he knew no one could answer. How long would he be stranded here? Would what happened to Martok happen to him? Was there a Changeling who had taken his place aboard the Station, having slipped seamlessly into the role of Dr. Julian Bashir? Even if that were the case, surely his friends would notice that he had been replaced? 

Julian clung on to the hope that if he’d been replaced by a Changeling, that someone would realize before any real damage could be done once it arrived at the Station. Both for the sake of the Station and himself. The Changeling's discovery seemed like his only real chance at rescue. While Martok had claimed earlier that rescue was not out of the realms of possibility, Julian could plainly see that the likelihood of escape was definitely not in their favour. Both Martok and Garak had already been here for over a year, and if anyone could figure out how to escape such a hopeless and desperate situation it would be Garak. No, if his imprisonment were to end, it would only come from a rescue mission. 

Frustration welled up again. There was nothing he could do but have faith in his friends. 

It would have been all too easy to be absorbed by his growing sense of hopelessness, so Julian turned his attention to the day’s other major shock: that Garak was still alive. It was a second chance Julian had never dreamed possible. Julian was overjoyed to see him again, of course, but it stung that Garak hadn’t returned the sentiment as forcefully. True, he was friendly enough in the face of Julian’s emotional greeting, but he hadn’t seemed as thrilled to see him. Almost aloof. 

On the other hand, Julian supposed it wasn’t fair of him to expect anything more from Garak; he had never been comfortable displaying genuine feeling. Plus, with his injuries he had every right to avoid Julian right now in favour of rest. He shouldn’t be taking it so personally.

But then watching Garak walk away had almost been too much. He shook his head as he thought about it. He should have ignored both Martok and Garak. He should have followed. Garak might have needed him. 

As more time passed, more of the other prisoners began to enter the barracks to sleep. Each person glanced at him warily, but seemingly no one had any interest in speaking with him. The heavy creak of the door hinges startled him every time someone enter the room, and he would sit up on his elbow to scan the entranceway, hoping to see Garak standing there. Each time, he was disappointed. He would have left the barracks if it weren’t for Garak’s promise that he would seek him out there – whatever Garak's promise was worth. 

He let out a relieved breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when Garak finally emerged out of the shadows. He quickly spotted Julian amongst the others, and silently gestured that Julian follow him outside into the compound. He turned and left the barracks without waiting, and Julian scurried after him. 

Garak was moving slowly enough that it didn’t take long for Julian to catch up. Under the brighter lights of the compound, he took a closer look at Garak as they walked together wordlessly, noting the obvious differences since they had last seen each other that afternoon. 

Garak’s limp had mostly vanished, at least, but his face looked worse than it had earlier, the bruising having taken on a more violent hue which made the small cut on his face stick out. Even beyond the physical injuries, Garak entire demeanor seemed changed – he had the weary and muted air of a man who had suffered numerous defeats and didn’t expect his fortunes to improve.

He’d been here for over a year, Julian reminded himself. How could he have expected anything different? He needed to be patient. 

While the compound was still crowded with prisoners, it wasn’t very difficult for Garak to find a suitably secluded spot for them, as far away from the prying eyes of the Jem’Hadar guards and of the other prisoners that they could get. Garak sat down with a slight wince. He patted the ground beside him, inviting Julian to come and join him. 

As Julian settled down beside him, he noticed for the first time that Garak held a small implement in his hand. Without a word of explanation, Garak used the tool’s sharp and jagged corner to cut open a shallow laceration on his palm. He briefly held up his hand so Julian could see the slight trickle of blood the cut had produced, the red stain stark against his grey skin. 

“In case you suspected that I was a Changeling,” Garak clarified with a nod of his head, as he brought his hand back down and curled it into a fist on his knee. 

Julian nodded in sudden understanding. He hadn’t considered the possibility since he’d arrived, but he supposed that Garak was paranoid enough that he wasn’t willing to take any chances. He held out his own hand and Garak provided him with the make-shift knife without question. He made a shallow incision in his palm, drawing a small red line of blood; his left hand smarting from the pain. Garak nodded in mild relief when Julian revealed the bloody cut to him. 

“I should start by apologizing for my earlier rudeness when I left you so quickly,” Garak said as he took the tool away from Julian and hide it under his folded legs. “But it was done in your best interests.” He smiled humorlessly. “It will be hard for you to believe this, but the Jem’Hadar in charge of this place, Ikat’ika, has not taken much of a liking to me. I would hate for that resentment to extend to you.”

“I just… I can’t believe that you’re alive,” Julian admitted, shifting his body to better face Garak. “It’s so good to see you again, Garak.” 

Garak didn’t meet his gaze but he smiled faintly, wincing as the movement appeared to irritate his battered face. “My dear Doctor, it’s good to see you as well, though, I never expected that we would see each other again. But, how did you manage to get caught up in this? I hope the Dominion was not so bold as to attack the Station or the Defiant.”

Julian shook his head. “Nothing so dramatic, although, I’m not exactly sure how I ended up here – one moment I was in my guest quarters while attending a medical conference, and the next I had woken up here.” 

Garak didn’t seem surprised. “Yes – that’s a typical story of most of the other prisoners.” 

“And you’ve been here ever since the Obsidian Order’s attack on the Founders?” 

Garak nodded curtly but didn’t add to his response, seemingly unenthused about discussing either his capture or his time spent in the camp. Julian couldn’t blame him; he couldn’t imagine being imprisoned in this place for so long. He’d go mad after a week. 

“I imagine then, given your surprise upon seeing me again, that you were under the impression that I was dead all this time?” Garak asked the question matter-of-factly, but it sat uncomfortably with Julian. He didn’t reply, staring straight ahead, as he once again found it difficult to speak. It would be hard for him to do justice as to just how difficult the past year had been for him.

Garak looked at him curiously at his silence. Julian swallowed and tried again. 

“Yes.” 

Garak hummed at the revelation. “I had wondered.”

A heavy silence brought the conversation to a pause. Julian took full advantage of the lull to take another long look at Garak. It didn’t go by unnoticed. After nearly a minute, Garak raised an eyeridge at Julian in silent but teasing admonishment. 

Flustered, Julian scrambled to explain in a hushed whisper. “I’m sorry, Garak, but only a few hours ago I thought you were dead.”

“If I may be candid, Doctor, perhaps death would have been preferable over spending an entire year in this place.”

“That isn’t funny, Garak,” Julian replied, aghast.

Garak’s blunt admission shocked him, even if it was just another instance of Garak’s dark sense of humour. The news of his survival was still too fresh and the pain he had felt over his death all too easy to recall for Julian to see any humour in the remark. 

Garak gave him a cool, bitter look, and Julian realized with a jolt that Garak hadn’t been joking. That he had meant every word. A rush of guilt flooded his thoughts at the idea of Garak, stranded and alone in this remote prison camp, while Julian had been mourning his supposed death. 

“Garak, if I had known that you were here I-”

Garak quickly interrupted, placing a calming hand over his arm. “You have nothing to apologize for. Setting aside the idea of you staging some daring rescue operation all for me, how could you have possibly known I was here?”

Julian sighed and leaned his head against the wall behind him. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Just so.” 

Again, they fell into silence, neither of them quite sure what to say even though there was still so much to discuss. It felt almost as if they were figuring out how exactly to talk to each other again. Both of them had changed over the past year; it was difficult to slip back into their old roles while being so aware of that. 

Julian hesitantly broke the silence to ask one last nagging question. “Were there any other survivors of the Cardassian fleet?” 

He felt Garak stiffen beside him. Likely a yes, then. And whoever it was, it wasn’t someone Garak was keen to admit to. 

Finally, he spoke. “There was one other: Enabran Tain.” 

Julian’s eyes widened. “You’ve been here for over a year with Enabran Tain?” 

Garak nodded, a restrained smile on his lips while he stared straight ahead with a steady, faraway look. “It hasn’t been easy,” he admitted with obvious reluctance. 

Julian was shocked. He had barely been able to stand Tain for more than a few minutes, how had Garak managed for over a year? He knew better than to ask. 

It seemed that their conversation was over, because Garak looked around with a worried frown. “I think I left our conversation a bit too late. If I may suggest, I think it’s time we head back to our barracks for the night before the Jem’Hadar begin to turn off the main lights.” 

Julian looked around for the first time, alarmed to find that so few people remained in the compound. Julian wasn’t ready to end their conversation yet, but he recognized the wisdom of Garak’s suggestion. With less people in the compound, the Jem’Hadar guards were starting to focus a little more of their attention on the two of them. At the same time, he didn’t relish the idea of returning to his barracks to try and fall asleep in a room filled with strangers. 

As if he had read his thoughts, Garak spoke up again. “Doctor, before we leave I wonder if you might like to stay in my barracks instead – there’s an unused bunk that you could use. They generally assign us barracks to stay in, though I’ve noticed that its never been strictly enforced. I know you’re sharing with Martok at the moment so my offer is only if you’re willing, of course…” The words left his mouth in a quick rush and he trailed off anxiously as he studied Julian’s face to gauge his reaction. 

“Yes,” Julian said quickly. “Of course I’ll stay with you.” 

Garak lifted his head and made the first real, sincere smile since Julian had seen him that afternoon. Julian smiled back, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. There was a part of him that wanted to reach out and take Garak’s hand in his, to feel Garak’s skin against his own, but he resisted, not wanting Garak to feel uncomfortable. 

Garak cleared his throat. “Well, then, as I said I expect that it’s time that we leave for our barracks.” 

He began to pull himself up from the ground with such deliberate care that Julian was alarmed by the action; he could tell that Garak was still in pain that went beyond some minor bruising. A bloody good doctor he was being right now. Julian harshly rebuked himself for not checking on Garak earlier. 

“Garak, wait a moment,” Julian said, quickly standing up and blocking Garak’s path. 

Garak looked at him in confusion. “Doctor…?”

“I need you to take off your shirt,” Julian said in a stern tone that brokered no arguments. 

“I beg your pardon?” Garak replied, plainly scandalized by the request. He took a quick step away from Julian and brought a protective arm to his ribs.

Julian wasn’t deterred by Garak’s theatrics, and he crossed his arms impatiently. “You’ve done a fine job so far pretending that you’re not injured, but it’s obvious enough to me that you’re still in some pain. I’m a little short of medical equipment at the moment, so I need you to lift up your shirt so I can physically check the severity of your injuries.” 

Garak looked like he was about to protest again but he was silenced by Julian’s glare. He sighed and sat back on the ground with a grunt. He begrudgingly lifted his shirt up rather than taking it off entirely, revealing his chest and abdomen to Julian, who kneeled in front of Garak to assess the damage. 

Julian surveyed Garak’s ribs with dismay. The area looked extraordinarily painful: the damage so extensive that it was a wonder that Garak was able to get up and walk around at all without complaint. Julian ran his hand featherlight against Garak’s skin, prodding gently at times, which caused Garak to flinch and hiss in pain. Julian sighed in relief when he didn’t feel any sharp or jagged edges under the skin. 

“This doesn’t look pleasant,” Julian said softly, “but luckily, your ribs seem to be badly bruised and not broken, although I’ll want to examine you again in the morning. We’ll work on some breathing exercises together to make sure that you heal properly.” He looked at Garak pleadingly and shook a finger at him. “And you need to make sure that you rest tomorrow.”

“Well, thankfully there’s little else to do here,” Garak responded with a wry grin as he pulled down his shirt and stood back up. “Now, if you’re quite satisfied after your little examination, I really think we should be going now.”

“Garak, wait.” 

This time Julian couldn’t help himself, and he caught Garak’s hand in mid-air, a small thrill igniting in his chest as their skin touched. Garak looked down at their clasped hands, then back up at Julian quizzically and with a slight tinge of irritation from being prevented from leaving once again. 

“I wanted to say – that is - I really did miss you while you were gone.” Julian stumbled. He dropped Garak’s hand, embarrassed at his inelegant attempt to convey his thoughts. 

Garak softened, the spark of his old, clever mischief finally alive in his eyes once again. “Entirely against your better judgement, I’m sure.” 

The reply was so frustratingly Garak that Julian could only laugh. He had missed this. 

He followed Garak back to his new barracks, the two of them the only ones left in the compound by that point. When they arrived at the barracks, the lights had been turned off some ago and he had to be silently guided past those already sleeping to his new bunk. Garak’s hand was against the small of his back the entire time. 

He laid upon his new bunk with a sigh, feeling less on edge here than in his former barracks. Garak softly wished him a good night as Julian turned over in a vain attempt to get comfortable. Before he shut his eyes, he waited until he heard Garak get into his own bunk. With a pained groan, Garak settled in and shuffled in his cot. Then there was silence. 

Julian relaxed. Content in the knowledge that Garak was safe and nearby, sleep came quickly this time. 

Tomorrow would be another day closer to rescue.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is probably the longest one of this fic, but I hope that it was worth the wait!
> 
> No beta, so my apologies for any glaring spelling/grammar mistakes.

By the next morning, Julian would wonder if he’d made a terrible mistake in accepting Garak’s offer. It wasn’t due to anything Garak had done or because he worried about the consequences of switching barracks. No, the source of his regret could be readily traced back to another person that would be sharing his barracks. A person whom he absolutely abhorred. 

Still half-asleep in his bunk, Julian nearly jumped out of his skin when Enabran Tain’s deceptively jovial voice pierced the early morning silence, the man somehow standing directly beside him without Julian having ever been aware of it. 

“Doctor Bashir, what a surprise to see you!” Tain exclaimed, though Julian’s presence didn’t actually seem to surprise him at all. 

Standing at the head of Julian’s bunk, Tain practically loomed over him. His arms were clasped behind his back in a relaxed posture, an overly-deliberate impression that fell apart after even the slightest bit of scrutiny. Like Garak, Tain carried the strain brought on by his prolonged captivity, he seemed both older and more exhausted than Julian remembered, but even after all he’d endured, Tain hadn’t lost that clever, predatory focus that Julian had been subjected to the first time they’d met. That look was now fixed squarely upon Julian. 

“Starfleet must be having real difficulties indeed if their own people are being captured so easily,” Tain remarked, goading him with a tight smile.

Julian ignored Tain’s blatant attempt to get under his skin; if Tain was seeking some emotional reaction from him than Julian wasn’t keen to give it. He locked eyes with the older man but said nothing as he pulled himself upright, keeping the expression on his face stoic and unwelcoming. Pursuing any sort of conversation with Tain didn’t interest him at all, a fact that Tain must have recognized but was all too happily choosing to ignore. 

“Still, what a surprise to see that you’ll be sharing our barracks for the foreseeable future,” Tain continued, a bemused tilt to his head. “Though, I suspect that Garak was the one who made sure of that.” 

“He was,” Julian responded curtly. Unable to stop himself, he cast a quick look over towards Garak, who was, thankfully, still asleep in his bunk on the other side of the room, oblivious to their conversation. Tain’s eyes followed Julian’s gaze with a frown of displeasure that proved fleeting when he smiled thoughtfully. 

“How very interesting,” Tain mused, the words slipping out of his mouth slowly. “And how very unlike Garak.” 

Julian frowned, wary. “What do you mean by that?”

Tain looked at him as if the answer was obvious. “Well, Garak should know better, and, frankly Doctor, so should you.” 

He said it in such an affable, off-hand way, as if Julian were a close friend in need of advice, that the conversation began to feel strikingly similar to his very first meeting with Tain, when he had sought him out in an effort to save Garak’s life from his malfunctioning wire. It has been hard to believe when they’d first met that this cheerful, unassuming old man could be so dangerous, but Tain seemed to relish in reminding him at every opportunity. 

Julian brought his knees up to his body and folded his arms over-top, eyeing Tain carefully. Nothing good could come from continuing this conversation, but curiosity got the better of him. 

“I’m still not sure I understand,” he confessed uneasily, regretting having spoken almost as soon as the words left his mouth. 

Tain smiled and he paused as if he was giving his next words deep consideration. “Tell me Doctor," he said, "the last time that I saw you I had you figured for a man of principle and professional integrity; a man who acted in the way he thought was best to save his patient’s life, even when it came at great personal risk. A true Starfleet officer, noble and selfless to the end.” 

He smirked and motioned his head to the other side of the barracks where Garak slept soundly. “Garak, on the contrary, is concerned only about himself, and I’m sure you’re already well aware of that fact yourself. So, knowing that, I wonder why such a morally praise-worthy man such as yourself would choose to associate with someone who exemplifies the complete opposite?”

Tain leaned forward to peer down at Julian, carefully appraising him, and smiled in a deliberate, calculated way; a smile perfectly designed to intimidate. Tain was a man accustomed to power and to being feared. It wasn’t a question he had asked of Julian - it was a demand. 

But Julian had dealt with men like him before, and he refused to be cowed by Tain’s expectation for passive obedience. A flare of anger ignited in his chest and, against his better judgement, his reply was low and heated. 

“The last time I saw you, Tain, you told me that you wished for Garak to live a long, unhappy life. So, forgive me if I don’t think you truly have his best interests at heart by trying to convince me to leave.”

Tain laughed as if he found Julian’s fury to be charming. Amusing in the moment but something to be disregarded as entirely harmless. He patted Julian on the shoulder and Julian had to make a conscious effort not to flinch.

“To be honest with you, Doctor, I’m not doing this to spite Garak. I’m truly curious about your reasoning. Is it that you feel badly for him? Did the story of the lonely, exiled Cardassian now imprisoned by Jem’Hadar soldiers tug at your heartstrings? Or is it merely because of his injuries? They’re superficial if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“All Garak had to do was ask.” Julian snapped, his eyes blazing. 

Tain sniffed, still amused, and clasped his hands neatly behind his back once again. “Like I said, how interesting,” he said, his gaze wandering over to briefly rest on Garak. As he did, a sharp, angry frown pulled at his lips, but it was wiped away almost immediately. He turned back to Julian. His wide smile and friendly demeanor had returned in full-force, and he bowed his head towards him in a way that startlingly reminiscent of Garak. 

“Well Doctor, thank you for indulging in a little conversation with an old man; it was just as enjoyable as the last time, though, I’m sure we’ll speak again very soon.” He nodded his head at Julian in farewell. The conversation now finished on his terms, Tain strolled out of the barracks without a backwards glance, leaving Julian to his troubled thoughts. 

Alone at last, Julian let out a deep breath. The entire conversation left him shaken even if, in a strange way, he was glad it happened. Speaking with Tain had reinforced one important truth: Tain was smart and he was dangerous. The best thing that Julian could do was to avoid Tain for as long as he was stuck here. 

If that was even possible was another matter. They now shared the same barracks after all, and, from what little Julian had pieced together about Garak’s past, Tain had previously been Garak’s mentor. The two of them had a close relationship – or at least they _used_ to. Judging from how Garak had spoken last night and from Tain’s conversation with him this morning, it didn’t seem like the two of them were on especially good terms anymore. Julian couldn’t confidently say if that was for the better or not. 

He lifted himself out of his bunk and cautiously approached Garak, unable to suppress his desire to check on him after his conversation with Tain. Relieved, he saw that Garak was still deeply asleep; his chest slowly rose and fell with each breath. Unsure at first whether he should wait for him to awaken, he eventually decided to leave Garak to his much-needed rest rather than risk disturbing him. He made a quiet promise to Garak that he would return, and with that he headed out the barracks in search of Martok. 

 

He found Martok easily enough, silently sitting in Julian’s former barracks just as he had been when Julian had woken up there the day before. They greeted each other warmly, and, luckily, Martok concurred with his suggestion to take a walk through the compound. While Julian was glad to be out and stretching his legs, he was wary of the intense glowers of the Jem’Hadar guards who walked among them, their hands seemingly glued to their phasers as if looking for a chance to use them. Julian and Martok kept their distance as best they could, but it didn’t stop the hairs on the back of Julian’s neck from prickling whenever a Jem’Hadar seemed a bit too interested in them. 

As they walked, Julian tried to apologize to Martok for his unannounced switch of barracks, but Martok was wholly untroubled by the news. “I suspected as much,” he grunted without malice. “It was obvious from the moment the two of you clapped eyes that you both know each other well.”

Julian thought about that, hesitant about agreeing. “We had lunches together on occasion while we were both living on Deep Space 9, but that was about the extent of it.” 

Martok looked as if he didn’t entirely believe him. “And what was a Cardassian doing on a Federation and Bajoran-controlled space station? That doesn’t seem wise.” 

“Honestly, I’m not sure that I really know myself,” Julian admitted, his breath of laughter only adding to Martok’s confusion. “You know,” he added conspiratorially, “I thought he was a spy when I first met him.”

Martok didn’t seem shocked by Julian’s admission but he pressed forward. “Immediately after I first met him, I had the impression that he was secretive – more so than his species reputation lends them. He's kept to himself since he arrived. I’ve rarely seen him speak with the other prisoners, even the Cardassian ones, with the exception of the older Cardassian who he was brought in with - and now you.” 

Julian’s playful smile disappeared at the passing reference to Tain and to Garak's forced isolation over the past year. He quickly shifted the focus of the conversation to other matters. At the very least, Martok was an engaged conversationalist; he was deeply interested in the current state of the Alpha Quadrant and of the Klingon’s hostilities with Cardassia and the Federation. Julian answered his many questions the best he could, but as more time passed the urge to check on Garak became an ever-growing distraction. 

After a few minutes of half-hearted responses from Julian, Martok stopped in place and raised an eyebrow at him. “It will not offend me if you must leave, Doctor," he said, "I’m sure that Garak is awake and in need of your medical expertise.” 

Julian gave a sheepish grin of apology. “I’m sorry, Martok,” he said contritely. “I’m being terribly rude.”

“It’s no matter,” Martok said, shooing him away with a shake of the head. "I am sure that we will see each other again soon."

Not needing any more convincing. Julian turned on his heels and hurried back to his and Garak’s barracks, weaving through the crowd of prisoners and Jem’Hadar guards. From the corner of his eye, he saw Tain standing among a small group of Cardassian prisoners; Tain’s cold glare a crosshairs on Julian’s back that followed him the entire way. 

 

Garak was exactly where Julian had left him that morning: still in his bunk, although now he was awake and seated upright. An impatient glare adorned his features as he tapped his fingers on his knees in a quick rhythm. Julian hid a smirk upon seeing his petulant expression. There were two possible options that probably best described the past few minutes: Garak either had been waiting patiently for him to arrive or he had been foolish enough to try to get out of his bunk on his own but had found the attempt to be exceedingly painful. If Julian had to guess, it would be the latter. 

The doors closed behind him loudly. At the sound, Garak looked towards him; his earlier impatience replaced by an overstated double-take once he got his first, clear look at Julian. That reaction was certainly unexpected. Julian stopped in place, self-conscious, and shot a look over his shoulder. Seeing nothing behind him, he frowned at Garak with a questioning look. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

Garak shook his head and looked away, vaguely embarrassed. “I’m sorry Doctor – I’ve just never seen that particular… look on you before,” he said, gesturing in front of his own mouth and chin. 

It dawned on Julian that Garak was referring to his newly-growing facial hair, which if he had any say at all would be swapped with his usual clean-shaven style as soon as he had the chance. He gave a breath of laughter and looked away, bashfully. 

“Well, it’s not my first choice,” he lamented ruefully, stroking his fingers over the rough texture. “Human males grow facial hair rather quickly and I don’t have an easy way to deal with it here, so I’m afraid that I’m stuck looking like this until we figure out a way to get out of here.” 

“Actually, I think that it quite suits you,” Garak remarked, with a flirtatious smirk. “You wear the dishevelled look quite well, even while paired with that dreadful uniform.” 

Julian blushed furiously thanks to Garak’s playful banter, but he only smiled by way of responding. After all, Garak only said these things to provoke a reaction from him. It had always been like that between them. 

“How are your ribs feeling today?” he asked, more concerned about Garak’s injuries than another missive about Starfleet’s uniform policy. 

Garak grimaced as he looked down at his torso. “The pain is not ideal,” he acknowledged reluctantly, “but I think that I can manage to walk easily enough; if you wouldn’t mind helping me up.” Garak thrust his arm up towards Julian, but it remained hanging in mid-air when Julian chose to ignore it. 

“That’s not the best idea right now, Garak. You really should stay in bed for as much as possible today – doctor’s orders.” 

Garak scowled, clearly irritated with him, and withdrew his hand. “I did well enough for myself yesterday evening,” he reminded Julian.

Julian fixed Garak with a hard stare. “That may be true, but it certainly didn’t help with your recovery.” 

“Well I’ll have to leave the barracks to eat.”

“Lucky for you, I can be a very attentive nurse,” Julian answered without missing a beat. He knelt so that he was face to face with Garak, smiling in a way that he hoped was charmingly endearing. “I forgot how much of a difficult patient you can be.”

Garak rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “And I forgot how annoyingly insistent you can be about these things.” 

Julian sighed; someone save him from stubborn Cardassians. “Garak please, for me, rest today. We can see how you’re feeling tomorrow and re-evaluate then.” 

Garak tried to twist himself around in his seated position, presumably so he could turn and better argue with Julian, but the sudden movement only caused him to double-over from a sudden spasm of pain in his ribs. Julian pulled himself closer to Garak and offered his hand in support. Garak gratefully grabbed it, squeezing Julian’s hand tightly until the final wave of pain subsided. 

“You see?” Julian couldn’t help but say, easily weathering Garak’s annoyed glare. 

Garak grumbled as he let go of Julian's hand and settled back down into his bunk, his movements slow and cautious. “Fine,” he said tersely, “since you’ve given me no other choice – I’ll stay. But if I’m going to be stuck here for the rest of the day, the least you can do is provide me with some entertainment. There must be some interesting news from the Station that I missed over the past year.”

That was certainly true, and Julian was all to happy to oblige him. 

Julian perched himself at the edge of Garak’s bunk, settling himself by Garak’s feet. Julian regaled him with all the latest happenings from the past year, each bit of news drawing their own unique reactions from Garak: from sympathetic shock over the news that Odo had been transformed into solid form (“A difficult adjustment, I’m sure.”) to confused astonishment over the news that Kira was now pregnant with Miles and Keiko’s baby (“How is that a medical possibility?”), and, finally, his mild reaction over the renting of his former shop to a new vendor (“I did suppose that it would happen eventually, you know.”).

Julian saved one piece of news for last, knowing that Garak would be overjoyed to hear it, though his anticipation at seeing Garak’s reaction was almost too much. 

“Dukat was shot?” Garak asked with wonder and near-disbelief, looking at Julian as if he had just provided him with a generous gift that he might snatch back at any second. 

“Only injured,” Julian quickly clarified. “It’s amazing he survived really, considering the number of Klingons that boarded the Station during the attack. Remarkably, he was back on his feet by the next day.”

“Dukat was shot,” Garak repeated with quiet glee. He looked over at Julian wistfully, legitimately distraught. “If only I had been there to witness it for myself – what a wasted opportunity.”

“Yes, I’m sure you would have been a great help,” Julian replied, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. He patted Garak’s leg absent-mindedly. “I think he would have had more to worry about if you were there.” Garak smiled but he didn’t disagree. 

Together, they talked. They argued and teased one another. It felt like their earlier awkwardness with one another had simply dissolved away, and Julian allowed himself the luxury of enjoying Garak’s company. 

He had so missed this, and then it was interrupted all too soon. 

While they were going over some breathing exercise to help ease the pain of Garak’s bruised ribs, a thunderous alarm resounded throughout the barracks, stopping after three long-lasting trills. Julian went rigid at the noise, only relaxing when Garak nudged his foot against Julian’s leg and shook his head, not perturbed by the alarm in the slightest. 

As soon as the alarm had stopped, Garak explained. “There’s no need to worry,” he said, “the Jem’Hadar sound the alarm to let us know that our benevolent hosts have brought our allotment of rations for the afternoon.” He looked at Julian in amusement. “It seems we’ll be resuming our lunches together at long last.”

At the mere mention of food, Julian’s stomach gave a loud and audible rumble. For obvious reasons, he hadn’t exactly been in the mood to eat the day before, and he’d gone the whole day without eating a thing. Now, he was famished. 

“Perhaps I’ll just slip out and get us something to eat,” Julian suggested as his stomach continued to protest loudly. Garak smirked, clearly amused by Julian’s embarrassment over his noisy stomach. Julian quickly pulled himself out of Garak’s bunk and rested his hand warningly on Garak’s leg. “I’ll be right back with something for both of us. You stay here.” 

“I’ll warn you in advance that it’s not much in terms of taste,” Garak cautioned him. “From personal experience, you’ll find yourself wishing for the Station’s replicated food once you try it.” 

“Even Klingon food sounds appetizing right now,” Julian replied, and he meant it. 

He turned to walk away, eager to finally be getting something to eat, when Garak hesitantly interrupted his departure. 

“Doctor, before you leave, I do have one more thing I’d like to discuss.” 

“What is it?” Julian asked idly, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of food. He stopped by the doorway, waiting. Garak looked down for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and when he looked up again he wasn’t quite able to meet Julian’s eyes. That was never a good sign. Alarmed, Julian gave Garak his full attention.

“I was hoping that I could ask a favour of you,” Garak ventured, with all the tentativeness of a person who fully expected to be refused outright. Julian cocked his head to the side and he looked at Garak with suspicion. What could Garak possibly want from him?

“You might not have spoken with him yet, but Tain is… not well,” Garak explained. “It’s his heart – it’s failing, and I can tell that his health problems have been bothering him more than usual lately. I fear that they might become incapacitating very soon.” 

He looked at Julian with a serious expression. “Doctor, you have every right to refuse me, but would you examine him? Check his pulse, make sure he isn’t over-exerting himself? Whatever you can do with your limited resources. I understand if nothing can be done, but I’d feel better knowing that someone is monitoring his condition.”

Julian took in Garak’s request, taking care to temper his voice so not to give away his reluctance. “And does Tain know about this request of yours?”

Garak nodded. “I discussed it with him yesterday. He’s in agreement.” 

Julian twitched, his hunger forgotten. Trust Garak to always have an ulterior motive, but at least now it was clear to Julian why Garak wanted him to stay in his barracks in the first place. Tain would need regular medical attention if he was seriously ill, and Garak wouldn’t pass up the opportunity of having a doctor stay onsite to treat him. The realization irritated him, even if Julian would have agreed to this arrangement anyways; he took his responsibilities as a physician seriously regardless of his feelings for the patient. At the same time, he couldn’t deny that he would have found it difficult to refuse Garak anything. 

“I’ll do the best I can,” Julian agreed with an unenthusiastic nod. It felt like he was making a mistake, but when Garak’s face fell into an expression of gratified relief Julian knew he had made the right decision. 

“Thank you, Doctor,” Garak said simply. “I appreciate your help more than I can say.” 

Julian smiled weakly, eager to escape from the room for a few moments to recollect himself. “I’ll be back soon. You just make sure that you stay in bed.”

“Of course,” Garak replied dryly. “Why would I ever think to do otherwise?” 

 

The compound was swollen with prisoners, every one of them looking to get their first real meal of the day. What the Jem'Hadar had left for them seemed barely adequate - just a pile of ration bars - but it was all they had been given. Julian quickly snatched up two ration bars, incurring angry looks from some of the other prisoners who thought he was taking more than his allotted share, but luckily no one tried to pick a fight with him. 

He was dismayed to find that Tain had made his re-appearance in the barracks when he returned to the barracks with their meal. The older Cardassian was sitting on his bunk, the one directly across from Garak’s, an infuriated expression on his face. The two of them must have been in the midst of a heated discussion, because they lapsed from furious whispering into a strained silence as soon as Julian entered the room.

Julian slowed to a near stop once he saw Tain, and he gripped the ration bars tightly in his hand. Garak and Tain both turned towards him, saying nothing. Uncomfortable, Julian moved purposefully to Garak’s side, silently handing him his meal. Garak took it without comment. 

Tain deliberately caught Julian’s eye as he went to sit down on another nearby bunk, giving him a dark, knowing smile. A deep shiver ran down Julian’s spine, but if Garak noticed he made no mention of it. In fact, Garak didn’t pay Julian the slightest bit of attention throughout their entire meal. It was a complete reversal from their light-hearted conversation only a few minutes earlier. Instead, they ate in complete silence, and it lent a tense sort of energy to the room. 

Garak finally turned to him once they had both finished eating. “We should speak later, but I think it’s best if you leave for the time being,” Garak informed him, dispassionate. “Tain and I have something to discuss.” Tain didn’t say anything, but he looked pointedly at Julian until he rose from his seat and made his way to the door. Julian had been shut out of the conversation, again. 

Slighted by Garak’s frank dismissal, Julian fled the barracks in search of Martok. 

 

He was ambushed by the Jem’Hadar almost immediately after he stepped into the compound. Without warning, two Jem’Hadar soldiers were at his side, silently but firmly steering him away from the crowd. The other prisoners kept well out of the way, a mixture of relief and sympathy evident on their faces.

If the Jem’Hadar’s plan was to intimidate him, it didn’t work. Julian was stoic in the face of their rough treatment, letting them lead him any which way without complaint. It helped that Martok had warned him during his tour the previous day that this was likely to happen, that he would be taken to see the person in charge of the prison camp: a Vorta by the name of Deyos. 

He still felt a small swell of fear as he was led towards the combat ring up until the moment they walked right by and entered the same small door that Julian had seen Itak’ika and his men go through the day before. Gripped tightly by both arms, Julian was hauled through the corridors that were off-limits to the prisoners until they finally reached a small and sparsely-decorated room. In comparison to the compound and barracks, this room was so brightly-lit that Julian was momentarily blinded after spending so long in the dark. He blinked furiously under the glare of the lights, his eyes watering.

Not that there was much to see. All that could be said was that the layout of the room was clearly set up to intimidate. A large, imposing desk filled up the room with two chairs on either side that were distinct in the level of comfort they would provide its user. 

Itak’ita was already waiting for them, standing stiffly in the middle of the room with a bored expression on his face. Julian was marched by and forced into his uncomfortable seat, and the two guards took their positions by the door behind him. Julian could feel their watchful stares aimed at the back of his neck. It made it difficult not to turn around, and he tried not to shift nervously in his seat. The silence of the room was suffocating, but he recognized the tactic as another attempt to unsettle him. 

They waited for what felt like an hour or longer until, finally, Deyos entered the room. The Vorta moved with quiet poise, ignoring Itak’ika and the two other Jem’Hadar guards, and he sat across from Julian with a well-mannered smile plastered on his face. 

“Dr. Julian Bashir,” Deyos greeted him, as though they were old friends. “I’m sorry it has taken me so long to meet with you, but I expect that this should be a quick conversation. My name is Deyos and I’m in charge here, which must be obvious to you. Have you settled in quite comfortably since you arrived?” 

“It could use with a few improvements,” Julian replied coolly, not taken in by Deyos’ false cheer. Itak’ika took a threatening step towards him, only backing away when Deyos gave an impatient flick of his hand. Deyos swivelled back towards Julian with a broad, overstated smile on his face, which slowly faded when Julian stared back with a chilly expression.

Deyos sighed as if dealing with an errant child. “Pity. You have the same insolent attitude as your Cardassian friend - Garak, isn’t it? My guards tell me that since you’ve arrived, the two of you have spent almost all of your time in each other’s company. I’ve heard you’ve even switched barracks to stay with him.” Deyos leaned back in his chair and regarded Julian with curiosity. “How interesting that a Cardassian and a human should have such a close relationship. Your species have never been on very friendly terms.”

Julian didn’t allow himself to outwardly react despite Deyos’s insinuation. He didn’t have time to waste on this. What he needed was information, anything he could get about the possible Changeling who had taken his place on the Station, but he would have to change tact if he wanted to guide the conversation to that end. A beat of silence passed before he questioned Deyos in a calm, steady voice. 

“You abducted me to replace me with a Changeling on Deep Space 9, correct?” 

Deyos’ smiled widened as if to confirm Julian’s guess, and Julian’s next question was posed more defiantly as he leaned forwards in his chair. “Why me? What is the Dominion planning to do on Deep Space 9?” 

Deyos laughed. “Really – they told me that you were clever, but so impudent as well? What a dangerous mix. But no, Dr. Bashir, I don’t think the exact nature of our operatives’ assignment is a discussion that we’ll be having today…or ever.” 

Julian sat back in his chair, disappointed. It had been worthwhile to try even though he had anticipated that there was only a small chance that Deyos would actually reveal anything to him. It seemed that the Dominion was still wise enough to keep their plans close to their chests despite the fact that Julian was safely locked away and unable to warn the Station. 

“However,” Deyos whispered, leaning in closer to Julian as if he were about to divulge a secret, “if there is anything you could tell me that could potentially aid our operative; we are certainly open to trading that information to ensure that you, and by extension your Cardassian and Klingon friends, are treated to the best extent possible. I’m sure you’d prefer that the pair of them avoid being the focus of the Jem’Hadar’s little training exercises in the near future?” 

Itak’ika gave a small huff of laughter that was silenced by a contemptuous glare from Deyos. Julian stared back at Deyos, stone-faced, his voice trembling in restrained anger. “I will not tell you anything that could potentially jeopardize the security of the Station, and there is nothing you can do to change my mind.” 

Deyos released another loud, exasperated sigh. “Yes, I assumed this would be the outcome of our meeting, though I appreciate knowing that I don’t have to waste my time on this again.” Annoyed, he looked to Itak’ika. “You may return him to the compound once I leave,” he ordered, before he stood up and strode out of the room. 

Itak’ika grabbed Julian by the arm, lifting him out of the chair and pushing him to the other Jem’Hadar guards with a firm shove. Julian was grasped once again by the arms and pulled by the two nameless Jem’Hadar soldiers through the bright, white halls to be deposited unceremoniously in the dim compound. 

He was thrown off balance by the Jem'Hadar, and he fell to the ground on his hands and knees. He quickly stood back up and was surprised to see Garak leaning against the wall of the compound a distance away. He must have been waiting for him. Garak’s face gave nothing away when he saw Julian, and he only cautiously approached when the two Jem’Hadar soldiers made their departure from the compound. 

“I was worried when you didn’t return to the barracks,” he confessed as Julian met him half-way. “You weren’t with Martok, so I could only assume that Jem’Hadar soldiers had come for you… but they so rarely take us into the inner part of the Internment Camp.” 

“It was only the welcoming committee,” Julian said dryly. At Garak’s confused expression, he clarified. “Deyos was after information about the Station.” 

“Ah,” Garak said, studying Julian with concern. “That must have been a distressing experience.”

Julian shrugged. Starfleet Academy had prepared all cadets in how to handle being prisoners of war. It would take more than a half-hearted interrogation to unnerve him. 

“I refused them, of course.” He scrunched up his face as he thought about how easily Deyos had given up on questioning him. “They must not actually need information from me that badly or I’m sure I would still be there.”

Garak nodded in agreement. “I have no doubt about that.” 

Julian folded his arms in front of his chest and frowned at Garak. “But what are you doing up and walking? I thought I told you to rest!” 

Garak raised his hands in mock surrender. “Yes, yes of course, Doctor. Even though I was clearly well enough to walk all the way out here, let us return to the barracks so I can continue to play along with your unnecessary demands.”

Julian made a frustrated noise, not appreciating Garak’s sarcasm in the slightest. 

In spite of his claims to the contrary, the walk back was challenging for Garak; every few steps he had to stop in order to rest. Julian moved slowly alongside him, watching with concern whenever Garak had to take a break. He was definitely not going to let Garak out of his bunk for the rest of the day. 

Garak, however, had different plans. 

“Excellent, there’s no one here yet,” he said once they returned to the relative privacy of the barracks. “Stand by the door and make sure no one is coming.” 

Garak didn’t make any move to climb back into his bunk, he only lingered there for a few, short moments as he retrieved a small piece of metal from under his mattress. He staggered over to Tain’s bunk and picked it up, grunting at the effort, shifting it to the side. 

Julian watched all this unfold, alarmed. He rushed over to Garak’s side with an angry hiss, throwing a worried glance back towards the barrack doors. “Garak, what are you-”

“I have something that I want to show you,” Garak interrupted, as he slowly lowered himself to his knees. “It won’t take long but it’s better if we do it while on one else is in the barracks.” Julian wondered if he was referring to Tain. 

Garak gave a few twists of the tool against the corner of one of the wall panels, using it as a sort of key to open a lower section of the wall. He inserted his hand into the small opening and used it to push against the panel directly below. The second wall panel popped open smoothly, revealing a small crawlspace. 

Julian leaned over to peer inside. Before his eyes could adjust to the darkness, Garak hurriedly put both tiles back in place and moved back the bunk against the wall. Julian whipped his head upwards to direct a questioning look at Garak.

“In case we get an unexpected visit from the guards,” Garak said. “It’s not wise to keep this open for too long without any one watching.” 

“What was that?” Julian whispered furiously at Garak. 

Garak locked eyes with Julian with a solemn expression, though a smile was threatening to appear. He pointed at the wall, which looked completely innocuous now. “This, Doctor, is our way out of here. This crawlspace leads to the barracks life support system, which Tain was modifying only a few weeks ago so he could send out a simple sub-space transmission. He’s since given up – but I can complete his work. A few more modifications and I can contact Deep Space 9 and get us rescued.”

Julian gaped at him. “And you’re only telling me about this now?”

Garak looked somewhat distraught over the accusation. “Tain expressed some reservations about whether I should inform you. It took me most of the afternoon to convince him that it was necessary that you know.” 

With a pained grunt, Garak got up from the ground and returned to his bunk. He sat down upon it and looked at Julian with a pleased expression on his face, clearly expecting some sort of praise. He was only met with silence. Garak frowned as Julian continued to say nothing. 

“Well?” Garak prompted him. “You’ve only just arrived, and I’ve laid out our best opportunity to escape. It took Tain months to get to this point. A few more tweaks and we could be rescued within the month.” 

Julian shook his head, still standing in the middle of the room. He cupped his chin in his hand and studied the wall. Running through his mind were all the ways Garak’s escape plan represented a huge danger to them all – everyone who shared these barracks. Julian had no doubt that they’d all be killed if the Jem’Hadar ever caught them. He walked across the room to stand closer to Garak, who was now frowning at him in open displeasure. 

He gestured his hand aimlessly in the air as he tried to think of the right words to convey his hesitation. “I can understand why you’re so excited by this – but why risk it, Garak? For all we know, Captain Sisko or Odo might’ve discovered the Changeling by now. They could already be looking for us.”

Garak dismissed Julian’s argument with a scoff. “You’re assuming that the Changeling will be caught at all.” 

Julian recoiled, fixing a hard glare on Garak. “Of course he’ll be caught! Someone has to notice that it’s a Changeling and not me.” 

“Perhaps, but I think that’s a very unlikely possibility. You should know even better than I just how easily the Changelings can avoid attracting suspicion.” 

Julian flushed with irritation over Garak’s dismissive words. “You really think that the Changeling could perfectly impersonate me without anyone noticing? Maybe for a few days, a week at most, but definitely no longer than that.”

Garak shook his head and gave a huff of disdain. “Oh Doctor, please. You said it yourself that the Changeling who impersonated Martok managed to fool the Klingon High Council for months! I would think the same outcome is equally as possible for your situation.”

“How very optimistic of you to say,” Julian replied angrily. “I choose to believe differently. At least my plan doesn’t include the risk of us all getting killed.” 

Garak looked at him coldly, his demeanor completely changed. Clearly, he had not anticipated that Julian would argue so fervently against what he saw as their most viable way to get out of the Dominion’s prison camp. Garak sat rigidly on his bunk, his hands laid overtop his knees, and his words were clipped and measured.

“Even if the Changeling is caught – we have no guarantee that he’ll give up the location of this camp or that Starfleet will be able to track you down should the Changeling be killed or evade capture. You’d be a fool to think otherwise. And while you may be content to stay here for months on end waiting for a rescue that’ll never come, I can’t endure another year of this.”

Garak’s voice wavered with ill-concealed emotion, and Julian felt stricken for being the cause of Garak’s distress. Garak shut his eyes for a long second and sighed, collecting himself. When he spoke next, his voice was steadier. “Julian, I understand the… difficulties in accepting that no one might notice your absence.” 

Julian flinched. Of course he would. 

“But,” Garak continued as he pointed at the wall, “I really do believe that this is our only means to get out of here. I can get that message sent in the next few days…I can get you home.” 

His pitch now made, Garak waited in anticipation for Julian’s answer. 

Julian didn’t answer right away. All the risks and probabilities of being caught raced through his mind as he considered how he would respond. He looked at Garak levelly. “You understand that if we’re ever caught, we’ll be killed.” 

Garak nodded gravely, the possibility not lost on him. Julian gave another deep sigh. He furrowed his brow as he took another long, hard look at Garak, who stared back at him expectantly. 

“When do we start?”

Garak’s smile resurfaced and his eyes lit up. He clapped his hands together forcefully. 

“Immediately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thanks to those of you still sticking with this fic! I appreciate every kudos and comment :) You all have been so kind. 
> 
> As a heads-up: I might need an additional few days before posting the next chapter - I have a few other commitments that may take up a chunk of my time for the next week or so. Just know I'm still working on this and I'll get to posting as soon as I can. We'll get to the eventual G/B goodness that we're all waiting for soon enough (yes, it will be soon)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow the original draft of this chapter doubled in size while I was editing. I decided to split the chapter into two since it was getting so long. The overall chapter count has been adjusted accordingly. On the plus side, this should mean that the next chapter will be posted soon as I've already started editing it. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading!

Despite his excited boast, Garak did not, in fact, immediately begin crawling his way through the walls of their barracks. Julian had flatly rebuffed that idea right away. It was too late in the day and he knew that Garak would be in far too much pain to even make a real attempt of it with such badly-bruised ribs; it was more likely that he would only end up worsening his injuries. For that reason, Julian didn’t care how keen Garak was to get started - he was adamant that Garak wait at least a week before trying otherwise. Unsurprisingly, Garak hadn’t been impressed with Julian’s decision, but he didn't really have a choice when there was no one else to watch for the Jem’Hadar while he worked. 

And so, with little else for Julian to focus his energy on, the ensuing week quickly became a lesson in boredom.

It seemed like such a silly thing to complain about given the many dangers that came with a career in Starfleet. Julian liked to think that when he had first signed up to join the Academy, he’d done so with eyes wide open. Even if he’d romanticized the chance at performing ‘real frontier medicine’ a bit too much before his posting to Deep Space 9, he had still understood the risks involved – that he’d be sent on dangerous missions or have to treat deadly illnesses and horrific injuries. As a member of Starfleet, he saw the best that the universe had to offer, but also the very worst, and the possibility that he could die in the line of duty was never lost on him. He knew all this, had already had too many close calls to count, but, to him, it was always a risk worth taking. He was meant to be a Starfleet doctor. 

But he still hadn’t been prepared for the strange mix of anxiety and boredom that was prison. The days bled into one another, all of them felt the same: monotonous, dull and tiring. It was surprising just how exhausting doing nothing could be. 

True, the Jem’Hadar gave them the freedom to move around and talk with one another, but it was never lost on Julian that they were still prisoners when their every move in the compound was strictly monitored and the barracks were subject to be searched at any time, sometimes even multiple times in one day, even though none of them owned any possessions. Every single prisoner lived in fear that at any moment they could be chosen for the combat ring to be beaten…or worse. 

By design, life in the Dominion prison camp kept them all permanently on edge and utterly compliant to the whims of the Jem’Hadar guards. Though Julian hated to admit it, after only a few days it was already starting to weigh on him heavily. It made him all the more thankful that he wasn’t alone; that he had Garak and Martok to rely on.

Unfortunately, his twice-daily examinations of Tain did nothing to help improve his state of mind. Neither Julian nor Tain were particularly thrilled about the whole arrangement, though neither of them suggested that they put an end to it. For Tain, some medical treatment, however minor, was better than nothing. For Julian – well – Garak had asked him to do it. Working in their favour was the fact that the examinations were generally silent affairs and with no sophisticated medical equipment or treatment options they took Julian less than five minutes to complete. He would monitor Tain’s vitals, ask him about whether he was experiencing any symptoms that were particularly concerning, and then leave Tain to his own devices until later that evening when Julian would do it all over again. 

Julian’s first examination of Tain had been the only unwelcome exception to that pattern.

“Ah Doctor Bashir,” Tain greeted him that first morning when Julian had approached him in the compound. “Just the man I wanted to see.” 

Tain broke away from the small group of four other Cardassians, all of them peering over Tain’s shoulder to look Julian over scathingly. Julian ignored them. He only cared about getting this over with as quickly as possible. 

“Tain.” Julian nodded in restrained greeting. “I think you know why I’m here.” 

“Of course,” Tain responded warmly, “though, I was hoping that I could ask a few questions of you first. Perhaps in a more private location?” 

Tain put one hand over Julian’s shoulder and forcibly steered him towards the barracks. Julian heard an amused swell of laughter from the group of Cardassians who were watching them leave and, annoyed, Julian made an attempt to pull his arm away from Tain. The attempt was unsuccessful. Tain tightened his hold on Julian’s shoulder, only letting go once they arrived in a suitably empty room. 

Upon releasing Julian’s arm, Tain sat down on one of the bunks with a pleased hum and gestured at the spot beside him to indicate that Julian should also take a seat. He gave a huff of laughter when Julian remained standing, unbothered by Julian’s small show of defiance. 

“Well,” Tain said, slapping his hands over the top of his knees. “I’m not sure exactly what good this will do, but I find it’s sometimes easier just to let Garak have his way than to try and argue with him. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Garak tells me that you’ve had a history of heart problems,” Julian replied, impassive to Tain’s complaint. If they had to do this, Julian wanted their discussion strictly limited to Tain’s health and nothing more. “Have you been experiencing any symptoms over the past few days?” 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Tian chided as he waggled a finger at him. “I said that I had some questions for you first, remember?” Tain took his time settling himself on the bunk and laced his hands over his legs. When he was ready, he looked up at Julian with a well-mannered smile. “Now, Doctor, I apologize if this seems a trifle invasive.” Alarmed, Julian made to interrupt but Tain started speaking before Julian had the chance to cut him off. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to know what the exact nature of your relationship with Garak was while you were both living on Deep Space 9.” 

Julian felt a flush of irritation and he looked at Tain with stunned disbelief. Tain already knew that he and Garak had been friends on Deep Space 9, that was the entire reason behind Julian's first meeting with Tain.

“I’m not sure why that’s any of your business,” Julian said slowly. 

“Humour me,” Tain interjected. His eyes narrowed slightly even as his smile held fast. “Garak tells me that the two of you were good friends.”

Julian shook his head in distaste over Tain’s line of questioning but he acquiesced in the hopes that Tain would be satisfied with his answer and let him get on with the examination. “We had lunches together twice a week and sometimes we met to discuss literature. That was about the extent of it - there’s really nothing more to say.” 

Tain frowned, his pleasant smile having faded away entirely while Julian was speaking. His eyes had taken on a dangerous glint as if he believed he was being taken for a fool. 

“I know when I’m being lied to, Doctor.”

“I’m not lying,” Julian replied through clenched teeth, even as his hands trembled imperceptibly by his sides. 

Emboldened, Tain continued speaking as if Julian hadn’t said anything worthy of a response.

“Let me tell you something, Doctor. The most important things you need to master if you are to survive in the Obsidian Order are you have to know when to lie and know when someone is lying to you. Believe me, I wouldn’t have survived as the head of that organization for very long without those particular skills.” He violently jabbed his finger up towards Julian. “What you forget is that I’ve known Garak all his life, and I know him _very_ well. His weakness for sentimentality has gotten him in trouble before, and I think that it’s going to get him in trouble again.” 

Tain looked Julian over with a dark intensity. “Try to convince me otherwise,” he challenged. 

“I don’t have to answer to you,” Julian answered, and he couldn't keep his voice from shaking with anger. He hated this man. Absolutely hated him. If Garak hadn’t been so insistent that Tain so desperately needed medical attention, Julian would have left the room by now. 

“Oh, but Doctor, it would be far better for you if you did.”

Tain looked at him coldly, and Julian felt as if the temperature of the room had plummeted.

“I’m not lying,” Julian insisted. “I won’t deny that I see Garak as…as a friend, but we only had lunches together.”

“Why?” 

“I’m sorry?”

“Why have lunches together at all? I asked you this yesterday but I’m still curious: why would you want to spend any time with Garak?”

“The lunches were Garak’s idea,” Julian said, thinking back on it. “And then, I suppose, because we both share common interests." He paused, and then he couldn't help but add, "And because Garak's one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.”

Tain studied him closely and Julian stubbornly held his gaze. The seconds passed until, eventually, something in his face must have convinced Tain that he was telling the truth, because Tain nodded and briefly lifted both his hands in a gesture of peace before placing them neatly on his lap. “Of course. Please accept my apologies for my intolerably rude questions, Doctor.”

With that, Tain lifted up his arm and offered it to Julian, his false smile back in place. 

“Now, I expect that you need to check my pulse?” 

 

The topic about his and Garak’s relationship never came up again. Julian wasn’t sure if Tain believed him or not, but either way he’d been dangerously close to the truth. A truth that, if Julian was being honest with himself, he had been ignoring for a very long time. 

That Julian cared for Garak, in a way that went beyond simple friendship. 

Their friendship had been a contradiction from the start: unlikely but, at the same time, inevitable. Garak had given Julian exactly what he had been looking for when he’d first arrived at Deep Space 9: mystery, excitement and, most embarrassingly looking back on it, the chance at being the suave hero who had made contact with a rumoured spy. Julian suspected that Garak had merely been humouring him in those early days of their acquaintanceship, but then he’d also seemed to genuinely enjoy Julian’s company. Over time, a real friendship had taken shape. A friendship that had the potential to turn into something more. 

But it never did. 

And when Julian had thought Garak dead, mixed in with his sadness and disbelief there had been a lingering sense of regret that he had done nothing; that it was a possibility forever lost to him. It had hurt even to think about, and so Julian never did. He had refused even to talk about Garak with anyone for that entire year. 

So, while Tain had hinted that he thought there’d been more than just simple friendship between him and Garak - he’d been wrong. Nothing had ever happened between them. Nonetheless, Tain had hit close enough to the heart of the matter: Julian secretly did want more than just friendship with Garak, even when he recognized that he’d likely never have it. 

He could live with that. Having Garak back in his life was enough. 

Except, Julian wasn’t feeling entirely enamored with Garak right at this particular moment. 

That was because Garak, in typical Garak-fashion, wasn’t willing to keep his complaints about his enforced bedrest to himself. Julian had bore the brunt of Garak’s whining over the past week and, if anything, the pestering seemed to begin earlier and earlier each day. Like first thing in the morning before Julian had fully woken up for the day, for instance. 

“How about today?” 

Julian groaned. He knew that Garak wasn’t being serious, posing the question – as he had every day for the past week – as tongue-in-cheek without looking for a real answer. All the same, Julian wasn’t amused. He made another discontented grunt and shifted in his bunk, hiding his face under his arm. Was it really so hard for Garak to wait until a more reasonable hour?

“One more day,” he answered, his voice coming out muffled against his arm. He didn’t bother opening his eyes to see Garak’s reaction; he could already perfectly imagine Garak’s scowl. Well, Garak would just have to manage. It was only one day after all. Julian turned over to face the wall and curled into himself: a last-ditch effort to signal to Garak that he wasn’t quite ready to get up yet. 

But Garak didn’t seem to notice Julian’s irritation with him. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care, because he continued to rant without pause. 

“Another full day, Doctor? I’ll admit, the first few days made a certain amount of sense. There you’ll get no disagreement from me. But after so long? When my injuries have basically healed? It’s being a little overly cautious, wouldn’t you agree? All we’re doing right now is wasting valuable time that I could be using to get us out of here.” 

Julian supposed that was true. Garak wasn’t exactly fully healed – but he had noticeably improved after nearly a week of forced bedrest. A mark on his face, still-healing but no longer fresh, was all that remained from the gash that Itak’ika had inflicted in the combat ring, and his ribs, while still coloured with fading bruises, didn’t seem to bother him as much anymore and he could walk around again with ease. Those improvements along with a real, tangible chance at escape had put Garak in much higher spirits than Julian had seen from him since he’d arrived. 

“Are you listening to me, Doctor?” 

Julian let his arm slump back to his side, and he moaned. “Garak, it’s just one more day.” 

Garak harrumphed. “It’s completely unnecessary.” 

“Unnecessary or not, you can’t start without anyone keeping watch for the Jem’Hadar. Unless you want to get caught, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” 

Garak sat himself down on Julian’s bunk, perilously close to Julian’s feet. With a quiet yelp, Julian rolled back over and glared at Garak, who only smiled back innocently. 

“I was trying to sleep,” Julian grumbled as he sat up and crossed his legs beneath him to accommodate Garak on his small bunk. He did a quick look around their barracks as he did so. Everyone else had seemingly left for the compound, except for the Breen who laid unmoving on his bunk over on the far side of the room. It must have been later in the day than he'd thought.

“Unfortunately for you, you’re still my only source of semi-interesting news.” Garak said with a smile that was as mischievous as it was infectious, and Julian grinned back despite himself. “Consider it the price you have to pay for not letting me put myself to good use. Now, there must have been something else that happened on the Station while I’ve been stuck in this dull and miserable place that you haven’t told me about yet?” 

Julian rubbed his eyes and yawned. “I think that I’ve exhausted all my news about the Station, actually,” he admitted as he gave a deep stretch, his back sore from his uncomfortably small bunk. He sighed in relief as his stiff muscles relaxed, feeling much more refreshed and awake than a few moments earlier. “Unless you want to hear about Quark’s love affair with his Klingon ex-wife. Jadzia spared no details when she told me about that.” 

Garak looked torn between amusement and disgust and, with a grimace, he shook his head. “No, I don’t think I’m desperate enough for that story quite yet.” 

Julian shrugged. “Shame, it’s a good one.”

Garak looked at him incredulously as if he hoped for Julian’s sake that he was only joking. “I’ll take your word for it,” he said, and left it at that. After a pause, Garak crossed his arms with a heavy sigh and he looked around the barracks. “No, I think I’d much prefer if we had a few novels to discuss, like we used to during our lunches, but I haven’t exactly had the means or the luxury to keep up with my reading over the past year.” He looked momentarily put-out but then turned towards Julian eagerly. “What about you, Doctor? Did you finish those enigma tales I lent you? Marvelous, weren’t they?”

Julian looked down at the ground, uncomfortable with the sudden turn of the conversation. “No, I never finished them.”

Garak groaned as if Julian’s admission came as a huge disappointment to him. “You’ve had them for well over a year and you didn’t read a single one?”

“It was…too painful a reminder.” 

“Of what?” 

“Of you, Garak! I thought you were dead – I couldn’t just… continue on as if that never happened.” 

Garak jerked back with a jolt, seemingly bewildered. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again as if he couldn’t seem to find the right words. It was an odd sight - Julian never seen him at such a loss for words before, though it did nothing to ease the raw ache that had resurfaced in his chest. 

“I didn’t think…” Garak started, only to trail off. He looked up at Julian with a contrite smile. “You’ll have to forgive me, Doctor. I forgot what a sensitive man you can be – of course any person’s death would affect you deeply. I should be mindful about such things.” 

Julian forced a half smile but didn’t try and correct him. Sometimes it felt like Garak missed the point deliberately. Especially if it might imply that someone actually cared about him. 

“I should go find Tain anyways,” Julian said as he halfheartedly lifted himself out of his bunk. “It’s time he had his medical examination for the morning.” 

“How is he?” 

Garak broached the topic hesitantly. He always seemed disheartened whenever he asked about Tain. Julian winced; he didn't have any good news to share. 

At first, Julian had attributed Tain’s haggardness and fatigue to the stress of living in the Dominion prison camp for so long. Such poor living conditions certainly wouldn’t be good for anyone’s health so Julian hadn’t been totally surprised. But then Tain had reluctantly admitted to occasional issues with chest tightness, dizziness and shortness of breath. All concerning symptoms that Julian could only monitor but do almost nothing about. 

“Not good,” Julian admitted, his voice soft. “With something like this, he could deteriorate very quickly, and right now, without any of my medical equipment, there’s nothing I can do for him. He needs proper treatment, or at the very least he should rest more, though he won’t seem to listen to me.”

Garak pursed his lips and nodded as if he’d known all this already. He looked up at Julian with a solemn expression. “How long does he have, in your opinion?” 

Julian shook his head, uncertain. It was impossible to know for sure. He couldn’t even give Garak a good guess. 

“I just don’t know. The sooner we get out of here the better.”

“All the more reason to get that message sent as quickly as possible,” Garak muttered, though he said it more to himself than to Julian. 

Before he turned to leave, Julian voiced a thought he’d been entertaining for the past few days. “Speaking of which, I think we should invite Martok to help us before we begin tomorrow.” Garak looked at him curiously and Julian was quick to defend his idea. “We can’t count on Tain helping us, he wants nothing to do with this, and it would be too much for me to keep watch and warn you before the Jem’Hadar arrive. There’s too much room for error than I’m comfortable with.”

“An excellent point,” Garak said as he nodded in agreement. “I’m sure I don’t have to warn you to be discreet when you ask him.” 

He didn’t, so Julian didn’t respond. Instead, he gave Garak a nod in farewell and stepped out into the compound. 

Their first chance at rescue was only a day away and he was nervous. Terrified even. It was a dangerous risk and there was no way of knowing if this was going to work, but as Garak had already said, they had no other good options to turn to. 

Julian just hoped that this didn’t turn out to be a big mistake. 

 

The next day didn't end up going as poorly as Julian had initially feared, but when Julian would look back on it later he would note that all the warning signs of impending trouble were present even before Garak climbed into the crawlspace for the first time.

They didn't begin work right away after Julian pronounced Garak well enough to get started - there was, as usual, still more waiting to be done. The three of them had decided in advance that they would wait until the two Romulans who shared Julian and Garak's barracks left for the day. They hadn't known about Tain's efforts to send out a message some weeks before and Garak saw no reason to tell them about it now. It made Julian uncomfortable and it was liable to lead to more delays, but it was better to keep their circle of knowledge as small as possible. Luckily, they didn’t have long to wait. The Romulans rarely remained in the barracks for very long, and they fled for the compound not long after they woke up. Martok joined Garak and Julian soon after. By then, Tain was already gone.

It was finally time, but there was no celebrating between the three of them. The mood in the barracks was tense and subdued. Only Martok seemed truly eager to begin. 

“I have high hopes for today,” Martok said with vigorous enthusiasm, “and I wish you both luck. We should all be glad that the end of our capture is in sight.” 

He clapped Garak heavily on the shoulder and Garak jumped slightly at the contact. Julian watched him let out a long breath and nod somberly at Martok, who went to station himself by the barrack doors. 

Julian looked Garak over curiously. Gone was his eagerness from the previous day; that enthusiasm had seemingly been replaced by a restlessness and nervous energy that had Julian worried. He didn’t voice his concerns to Garak - Julian thought he knew where Garak's nervousness was coming from. Out of all of them, Garak was under the most pressure and he would working in less than ideal conditions. All things considered, it made sense that he was looking a bit anxious with such a daunting task ahead of him. 

He approached Garak cautiously, taking care not to startle him as Martok had done. They had come too far to change course, but he still had a few final questions for Garak.

“So, how is this going to work?” 

Julian leaned forward as he asked the question, watching Garak carefully remove the wall tile to reveal the unpleasantly small crawlspace once again. Garak let out a deep breath as the wall panel came away and he peered into the darkness, evidently lost in thought. After a few moments, Julian cleared his throat loudly, which caused Garak to flinch as though he hadn’t realized that Julian was standing just behind him. Garak forced his gaze away from the crawlspace and he looked up at Julian hazily. 

“I’m sorry?” 

Julian frowned, starting to feel more concerned about Garak’s sudden change in behaviour. He refined his question, hoping that Garak just hadn’t found it clear enough the first time. “How are you going to make sure that the Station receives our message?” 

“Ah, well, if everything works as it should, the message will be picked up by one of Starfleet's listening posts in the Gamma Quadrant... don't look at me like that, Doctor - they're not that much of a secret. They'll have to find a way to decode our message, so I’ll be using a standard Cardassian military code – an outdated one now of course - though, one that I’m sure your Major Kira has had personal experience decoding.”

Julian crossed his arms as he considered this, the flaws all too apparent in his opinion. “So, presuming that the Station does receive our message without it being first intercepted by the Dominion or the Changeling, _and_ that Kira is able to decode the message, how exactly will they be able to find and rescue us?” 

Garak only shrugged his shoulders indifferently and turned his attention back to the crawlspace. “That’s a problem for your colleagues to figure out, not me.” 

Julian didn’t find this argument to be particularly persuasive and he conveyed his dissatisfaction with a tsk of his lips. He should’ve known better than to ask, but he blurted out the question anyway, “And you’re sure that there’s no alternative?” 

Garak’s voice was strained when he spoke, on the knife-edge of anger after being asked this question so many times. “As I’ve said before, I’ve been trapped in this prison for over a year and, if there were any other way, I would surely have thought of it by now. As it stands, this is our only option.”

Julian was about to challenge that oft-used justification, but he stopped himself as he took another close look at Garak. He looked awful – pale, tense and unsteady - he certainly didn't look like he was in any condition to be putting himself under such stress. Could it be that his ribs were still bothering him? Was he still in pain? If that was the case than Julian supposed that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“Are you alright?” Julian asked cautiously, ready to put a stop to this if Garak even implied that he wasn't feeling up to it. 

“Obviously,” Garak snapped back in reply with an angry look on his face, “and I’d appreciate it if you’d let me get to work, Doctor, rather than delaying things any further than you already have.”

Before Julian could stop him, Garak pulled himself into the crawlspace and disappeared into the darkness. Stunned and vaguely hurt over Garak’s harsh words, Julian picked up the wall tile and positioned it so that it would be close at hand should he need to cover up the crawlspace in a hurry. He sat down on the bunk and sighed heavily, and he rested his chin on his hand.

It was all up to Garak now.

 

By the end of the first day, everything had gone according to plan. While Garak wasn’t finished by any means, things had gone as smoothly as they possibly could have under the circumstances. 

Garak worked tirelessly for nearly the entire day, enduring the cramped and dismal conditions without a single complaint, while Julian had stayed close to the wall panel, ready to spring into action whenever Garak needed to make a quick escape. Luckily for them, those occasions were rare. Martok had only given them a single warning when the Jem’Hadar had strayed a bit too close to the barracks, and it turned out to be a false alarm in the end. Even Tain kept away from the barracks for most of the day, sparing them all his repeated predictions that this would all come to nothing. 

Still, Julian couldn’t consider that first day a complete success, and the reason for that was because of Garak. Every time Garak emerged for a short break he looked worse than the time before – pale, ill and faint; his face sheen with sweat. He was barely able to keep up with Julian’s attempts to speak with him, sometimes outright failing to respond at all. He seemed lost inside his own head. 

There was something bothering Garak, that much was obvious, and Julian was determined to get to the bottom of it before Garak ended up harming himself. He cornered Garak later that evening, pulling him aside as the three of them were about to head into the compound to get their final meal of the day. 

“I need you to tell what’s wrong,” he said, getting right to the point with a hushed and hurried whisper. Garak looked at him with dismay, as if he had seen this coming but still didn’t want to partake in this discussion. 

With no response forthcoming, Julian rested his hand upon Garak’s arm, pleading. “Garak, please, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me.” 

Garak remained stubbornly silent for a long moment, but he eventually gave into Julian’s plea with a sigh. “It’s really nothing to be concerned about.”

Julian looked at him, his doubt plain on his face. “Garak, if your ribs are still bothering you then I need to know.” 

Garak gave him a weak smile, too exhausted to be upset. “Your concern is appreciated, but unnecessary – my ribs are fine. If you’re giving me the opportunity to complain about anything than I’ll blame the less than ideal working conditions, which can’t be helped. Unless you want to trade places then there’s little you can do.”

Julian ignored Garak’s flippant tone, frustrated that Garak wasn't taking this seriously enough. He looked at Garak with a humourless expression, willing him to understand just how important this was. When he spoke, he did so slowly and deliberately. 

“You’re absolutely sure that you’re feeling well enough to do this?” 

Garak looked at him with grim resolve to match Julian's own expression. “I’ll be fine. Truly.” With a small smile, he put his hand on Julian’s upper arm and easily brushed past him to make a quick escape into the compound. Julian watched him leave without trying to stop him, not feeling reassured in the slightest. 

He would have to keep an eye on this, no matter how much Garak ended up resenting him. Right now, the best outcome Julian could hope for was that this would all be resolved by tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes I might've missed. Thanks for reading!

Over the years since he’d started practicing medicine, Julian had become used to people ignoring his medical advice. 

It happened more times than Julian would ever feel comfortable with, though he never took it personally or as a slight to his ego. He had become a doctor because he truly wanted to help people: the sick, the vulnerable and the injured - and most of the time he was able to do that. Medical technology had become so advanced that he could alleviate suffering with incredible speed, and it wasn’t a rare occasion when he was able to examine, diagnose, and subsequently cure a patient all in a single session. 

Sadly, that wasn’t the case for every person who came through his medbay. For those less fortunate and afflicted with an incurable condition, Julian could only provide them with treatment options and the tools to help them manage their illness. But his expertise and authority only went so far, and no matter how much he justified his advice or provided his patients with frequent reminders, sometimes they simply wouldn’t listen. Sometimes, all his good intentions and best efforts came to nothing. 

It was an unavoidable part of the profession, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating to watch. Especially when the person in question was someone he cared about. 

And Garak was proving to be especially frustrating. 

Julian had figured that Garak of all people would know not to over-exert himself – he’d honestly expected a calmer, more thoughtful approach instead of this frantic, unsustainable pace. Garak was barely eating or speaking, he was sleeping poorly, and, worst of all, he was working too hard and for too long. There was no way he could keep this up for much longer. 

Julian could only guess that the reason had to do with Garak’s year-long incarceration and longing to escape, and Julian couldn’t bring himself to blame him if that was the case. Whatever the cause, there was little Julian could do to make Garak slow down. He knew that he could needle and cajole Garak to rest more until he turned blue in the face, but the likelihood that Garak would actually listen to him once he set his mind to something was almost zero.

Frankly, the whole situation worried him, and when Garak had dismissed Julian’s worries the night before Julian had briefly toyed with the idea of rallying Martok to his cause - his thinking that if Martok took longer breaks of his own that this would force Garak’s hand as even Garak would be unwilling to work with no one keeping watch for the Jem’Hadar. Then again, Julian could only imagine how poorly that would go over. Being cut off from his work would probably only agitate Garak further. 

For now, the best course of action was to keep monitoring Garak so that he could intervene before Garak burnt himself out, and Julian resolved to keep a watchful eye on Garak as his second day of work began. 

The day had begun with all the same hallmarks as the previous one: Garak spent most of the morning in the crawlspace, looking overworked and unwell when he bothered to come out for a short break, and he would give the same curt answer – “almost finished” – whenever Julian or Martok asked him about his progress. Other than that, he rarely said anything at all. His face had a blank and drained expression that seemed permanently set in place.

Julian didn’t do or say anything about it, and that mistake nearly ended up costing them all dearly. 

The trouble started after lunch. Julian had somehow managed to convince Garak to eat except, to Julian’s chagrin, Garak had returned to the crawlspace after less than ten minutes. It wasn’t long after when Julian heard a faint rustling noise. The sound instantly caught his attention; it seemed so out-of-place and he couldn’t quite place where it was coming from. That didn’t seem to matter much because the noise came to an abrupt end shortly after he first noticed it.

 _How odd_ , he thought. 

He chalked it up to random noise and put it out of his mind. Until he heard it again. Even more erratic-sounding this time. 

Julian cocked his head and looked over at Martok questioningly, and Martok returned his confused look with a slow but affirming nod. They could both hear it then. And the source had to be close by. He closed his eyes to concentrate and figure out what it was and where it was coming from. 

The realization made his blood turn cold, and his eyes snapped back open. 

It was coming from behind the wall. 

_Garak._

Julian quickly bent down one knee and poked his head into the crawlspace. Instantly, he noted that the dim light that had been Garak’s only source of light had gone out - Julian couldn’t make out anything. He peered into the darkness, calling softly – only a hair above a whisper. 

“Garak? How are things going in there?” 

No reply came, but at least the noise had seemingly stopped too. 

Julian’s lips parted again, but nothing came out. His stomach clenched in fear as he weighed his options. There had to be a simple explanation for all this; his growing worry had to be misplaced. Garak must be working to fix the extinguished light. He’d just been careless about the amount of noise he was making. 

Then he heard a loud bang; the wall shook from the force of it. 

Julian froze. 

He heard it again, the noise getting louder and more persistent. It sounded like someone desperately trying to break through the walls. 

What was happening in there? 

“Doctor,” Martok whispered urgently, as he looked back and forth between Julian and the barrack doors. “You must get Garak to stop or the Jem’Hadar will hear him - we’ll be found out!”

Martok’s appeal broke Julian out of his paralysis and, wasting no more time, he quickly pulled himself into the crawlspace and felt his way blindly through the darkness - all the while thinking that were surely going to be caught because of this. That the Jem’Hadar would find the evidence of what they’d been doing, and the three of them would never escape this place. Every heavy strike against the wall reinforced that belief; the sound vibrating through his entire body as he crawled and made him feel sick from worry and fear. 

He gave a muted cry of relief when Garak’s outline came into view ahead of him, his body tightly slotted between two walls, until he saw with alarm that Garak’s fist was hanging in the air to strike the wall again. Not knowing what else to do, he called out to him in a panic. 

“Garak, stop!” 

He could see Garak twist his head towards him in the darkness. A beat passed where Garak did nothing, and then he hesitantly lowered his fist as if in a dream-like haze. 

Shaky from adrenaline and fear, Julian turned sideways to fit through the narrow passageway, determined to get himself closer to Garak. He winced over the uncomfortable tightness of the space. Hours and hours had passed with Garak in between these walls; it had to have been unbearable. No wonder this had happened. 

Julian looked upon Garak with dread as he drew closer. He couldn’t quite make out Garak’s face without any light – not that a light was really necessary because it was obvious that Garak was not fully coherent. Every breath was a struggle for Garak as he laboured to get enough air with short and shallow breaths, and his words came out in a panicked rush that Julian struggled to understand.

“The light – it went out. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t – it was so dark and the walls so close that...”

Garak broke off with choking noise, and Julian knew he had to get Garak out of here as quickly as possible. 

“Garak,” Julian said, his voice soft but firm, trying to be a source of calm that Garak could latch onto. “I need you to grab my hand so that I can lead you out of here, ok? I’m standing right beside you. All you need to do is just need to stretch out your left hand.”

It was a testament to just how dire the situation was that Garak didn’t argue with him or take issue with his reassuring tone. After a brief pause without any action from Garak, Julian gently reached out and laid his hand overtop of Garak’s and took hold with a firm grasp. Garak’s breathing hitched and he looked down at their clasped hands. He swallowed and shakily squeezed Julian’s hand. 

“Good,” Julian soothed. “Now, let’s get out of here.”

Together, they shimmied out of the narrow passageway. Their hands broke apart only once they had to crawl back through the crawlspace into their barracks; Julian heading in first. He pulled himself out of the crawlspace and hurriedly turned around on bent knees to guide Garak out when he emerged behind him, pale-faced and still breathing with obvious difficulty. 

Martok took it upon himself to set the wall panels back in place while Julian directed Garak to sit on his bunk. Garak half-collapsed on it though it was only a few steps away, staring blankly ahead as his chest continued to heave from lack of air. Worried, Julian sat beside him and put two fingers over the inside of Garak’s wrist to track his pulse. He was dismayed at how rapid it was. 

He had to get Garak to calm down. 

“Just breathe,” Julian said, locking eyes with Garak and wishing he had a hypo-spray handy. He gently placed Garak’s hand over top of his own chest and gave him a coxing smile. “Relax and try and match the pace of my breathing. Try deep breaths.”

The pads of Garak’s fingers pressed urgently into Julian’s shirt, the pressure gradually lessening as he reached a steadier state of breathing. Taking deep and controlled breaths, the fear drained out from Garak’s face and he quickly pulled his hand away from Julian in embarrassment. 

Martok hovered uncertainly a few feet away as he watched all this unfold. As if coming to his sense, he looked to the barrack doors in alarm and raced back. Julian shot a look over Garak’s shoulder as Martok opened the door to observe the compound. If there were no Jem’Hadar swarming their barracks by now than it was unlikely they had heard anything. Still, they needed to be sure. 

“Not a Jem’Hadar in sight,” Martok relayed with a relieved sigh. “It seems that they didn’t hear anything amiss.” He gave Julian a knowing look. “We were fortunate this time.”

Julian turned his full attention back to Garak and looked at him with single-minded intensity. Julian was still flush with adrenaline that hadn’t receded even while he’d hidden it away to help Garak. In truth, he was furious. With himself and with Garak. This all could’ve ended up a lot worse than it did.

“What was that, Garak?”

Gone were Julian’s soothing comforts, his voice was now hard and on the verge of anger. Garak looked away, ashamed, and he put a hand to his chest as if to reassure himself that he was breathing normally again. At the same time, Garak forced a strangled chuckle and a weak smile that only infuriated Julian. 

“I may have a slight aversion to enclosed spaces that I neglected to mention earlier.” 

It wasn’t the time to get angry, not when Garak was in such a state, but a sharp tinge of frustration still crept into Julian’s voice. 

“A slight aversion? That was a full-blown panic attack, Garak!” 

Garak hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. In all likelihood he was simply too exhausted to argue; he looked like he was ready to keel over. His arms were ramrod straight as if that was the only thing keeping him upright. Julian would have felt guilty over this if it weren’t for one thing – that Garak had assured him that this wouldn’t happen. That Julian had no reason to worry over Garak’s wellbeing. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about this last night?” he asked, the accusation clear. 

Garak shuffled uncomfortably. 

“I don’t know what point it would have served – Tain’s too ill to help and I’m the only one of the three of us who knows Cardassian military codes and can get this message sent.” 

Julian looked at him in disbelief. “Garak, I need to be aware of any medical information, including this, before you get into situations that cause you to nearly collapse. Or try to break through a wall, apparently.” 

Garak scoffed and waved him off, annoyed. As if overtaken by newfound energy, he stood up and made to return to the crawlspace. Julian quickly followed, gripping Garak by the arm to restrain him. 

“What are you doing? You’re not going back in there again – your heart rate is dangerously high as it is.”

“This needs to be done,” Garak argued, yanking his arm away from Julian. Undeterred, Julian sidestepped in front of Garak and used his body to block Garak’s access to the wall panel. He crossed his arms defiantly, though Garak didn’t pose much of a threat waving unsteadily in place as he was. 

“This can wait until tomorrow, Garak. You’ve been under enough stress for today.”

“What? No, we don’t have that kind of time to waste.” 

“There’s not a chance that I’m letting you back in there,” Julian said tersely, refusing to move. They glared at each other, petulant and angry, neither of them willing to back down from their heated standoff. 

“I believe that it would be best if I stepped outside until this is sorted,” Martok suddenly announced, and Garak and Julian whipped their heads to look at him in surprise, both of them having somehow lost track of the Klingon in the heat of their argument. With a final dissatisfied look at the two of them, Martok stormed out of the room. The barrack doors closed behind him with a loud bang, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. 

The shock of Martok’s abrupt departure had at least served to dampen their anger, though a smoldering fury still simmered beneath the surface. The last dregs of Julian’s anger finally bled out when he saw that Garak was breathing heavily again; his heart rate would definitely be spiking again, which was exactly what Julian had wanted to avoid. With a sigh, Julian abandoned his guarded posture and gave Garak a conciliatory smile as if in recognition of how foolish they were both being. His smile wasn’t returned.

“Well, you have no choice now - there’s no one to stand watch,” Julian noted as he nodded towards the barrack doors. When this stirred no reaction from Garak, Julian sighed again and held up his hands beseechingly. 

“Would you just come and sit down with me? We should talk about this.”

Facing no other choice, Garak reluctantly followed Julian’s lead. Garak was never one for such heavy conversations but there was no escaping this one. Julian wasn’t going to let him. 

They returned to Garak’s bunk and sat next to one another with a clear distance between them, their anger having given way to a tense discomfort. Julian anxiously tapped his fingers on his leg while Garak was a paragon of reserved disdain, seemingly content to force Julian into starting the conversation through his silence. A defence mechanism that didn’t fool Julian one bit. 

“You knew that this could happen, didn’t you?” Julian said, watching Garak’s face carefully. 

To his credit, Garak was more truthful and direct than Julian expected from him. 

“Yes.”

Julian couldn’t believe that Garak would willingly put himself into this position and his look of confusion must’ve made that sentiment obvious to Garak. 

“Why? Why push yourself so hard if you knew this could happen?” 

_When you knew that it could lead to our discovery_ , he wanted to add but didn’t say. A few moments passed, and Julian thought that Garak simply wasn’t going to answer him. That this stalemate would continue. Then with a sigh and slump of his shoulders, Garak gave him his answer.

“Because Tain’s condition is deteriorating. He’s dying - you said as much yourself the other day. He needs medical attention…and he needs it soon.” He shook his head in self-loathing. “I should have started work on this weeks ago, but I convinced myself that I had more time - and now I can’t afford to wait any longer.” 

Julian narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t the explanation he’d expected or had wanted to hear, but at least now he understood. 

“How much longer do you need to get that message sent? Really?”

Garak let out a long breath as if just the thought of returning into the crawlspace had added to his crushing fatigue. “Three or four days, perhaps longer. I’ll have to fix that light now, so that will delay things.”

“That can’t happen again,” Julian said softly, imploring Garak to understand that he wasn’t saying this out of anger anymore. 

“I’m well aware of that, Doctor. I…well, I hadn’t expected it to manifest as strongly as it did. I thought I could manage it on my own.”

“Then if you’re going to manage another few days in there you need to properly deal with it. You’re going to need to pace yourself and I need you to listen to me when I tell you to take a break. The stress is going to be too difficult to handle on your own – you can’t just push yourself through it. I know you’re doing this to help Tain, but it won’t do him much good at all if this happens again and the Jem'Hadar find out about us.” 

For a moment, Julian worried that Garak was going to fight him on this, but Garak only sighed and nodded. That was enough of a concession for Julian and he pulled himself closer to Garak to place a comforting hand on his arm. “I should have asked you this far earlier – are you feeling alright now?” 

Garak gave him a small smile that Julian returned. “Awful, actually.”

“That’s not a surprise – your body has been under too much strain these past few days.” He looked around the room, for once happy that the lighting was always kept so dim. “It’s still early but you might as well get some sleep now. You’re going to need the rest.”

Garak snorted. “I won’t argue with that.” He looked at Julian hesitantly. “I suppose I should thank you, Doctor.”

“Just get some rest, Garak,” Julian said softly, removing himself from the bed so Garak could stretch out on the bunk. “I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’ve recovered.”

Garak was asleep almost instantly and Julian stayed close at hand, sitting on the neighbouring bunk and watching at the slow rise and fall of his chest. The stillness in the room felt strange after what they’d just been through, and he tried to relax. 

He knew that the next few days weren’t going to be easy, but at least Garak’s secret was out in the open now. He wouldn’t have to cope with his claustrophobia on his own anymore. They would escape this place – Julian couldn’t believe in any other option - and Julian would make sure that Garak didn’t sacrifice his wellbeing all for Tain.

Garak was simply too important to Julian for him to ever allow that to happen. 

 

“Tain is coming.”

Martok’s warning elicited a long groan from Julian and he sat down on the bunk beside him with a sigh, already dreading their encounter. 

Tain often returned to the barracks in the middle of the day to rest whenever he was overcome by exhaustion or when the tightness in his chest became too much for him to bear – but his health issues hadn’t stop him from making frequent comments about their progress, often at Garak’s expense. But with Garak hidden inside the crawlspace and Martok at a safe distance away by the door, Julian was left to be the captive listener of every one of Tain’s complaints or mocking remarks. Tain, for his part, seemed to absolutely revel in trying to get Julian to react.

Tain entered the barracks and briefly surveyed the room, his eyes settling on the open crawlspace and then on Julian. He was breathing with obvious exertion as he slowly made his way across the room to his bunk and his hand was placed lightly on his chest. Chest troubles, but Tain didn’t ask Julian for any assistance. Tain paused at the foot of his bunk and pointed at the open crawlspace, although it took him a few moments to speak through his laboured breaths. 

“He’s still in there then?”

Julian didn’t even spare Tain a glance. Tain had been displeased with Garak’s decision to resume his previous work in sending out a subspace message in the hopes of rescue. The reason wasn’t overly clear to Julian thanks to Garak’s less than straight-forward answers about the whole thing. 

“Yes.”

His brusque reply sparked an amused smile from Tain. 

“So much concern for Garak,” he observed as he sat down on his bunk with an exhausted sigh. He put one hand to his chest and winced. “It was only a question.” When Julian didn’t respond, Tain continued, “still, it’s been how long now? Four days? It shouldn’t be this difficult – I’ve practically done all the work for him already. I’m curious why it’s taking him so long.” 

Julian rounded on Tain with a glare. 

“If you could so easily do this yourself, why didn’t you?”

Tain looked at him in confusion and then gave a sudden nod of understanding. “Ah yes, the claustrophobia. That’s always held him back - I was never quite able to break him out of it. And I certainly tried.” 

“That’s awful,” Julian breathed, looking at Tain in revulsion, though he was relieved that Tain hadn’t been around to witness Garak’s near-collapse the day before.

“I was doing Garak a favour,” Tain objected, shocked that Julian would show any anger towards him. “A grown man acting the way he has; it’s pathetic. That kind of weakness shouldn’t be coddled.”

“I think what he’s doing is admirable,” Julian said, and Martok gave a grunt of agreement from behind him. 

Tain scoffed. “I wouldn’t be so quick to come to Garak’s defence. He’s not doing this for you.”

“Who exactly is he doing this for then?” Julian muttered under his breath. 

“Himself.” 

At Julian’s irritated look, Tain threw up his finger to signal that he was about to explain. 

“It’s simple enough to understand. If I were the one who sent that message, who is it that would be coming to my rescue? I have no friends left on Cardassia, and neither does Garak.” Tain shook his head and said, “no, this plan would work only if there was a regime change on Cardassia or if we had any hope of our message being picked up by a friendlier party – which in my view does not include the Federation. The Detapa Council continues to govern on Cardassia, and it seems even less likely that this will change from what I’ve been told by the latest Cardassian arrivals.” 

He paused and pointed at Julian, his gesture laden with significance. 

“But then you arrive, and Garak sees his chance at escape.”

Julian swallowed heavily and looked down, and Tain seized on that brief moment of doubt. “That’s why I told you not to waste your time, Doctor. Garak’s not interested in your friendship; you’re just his best prospect to escape from here. He’s using you, at great risk to yourself.”

“He’s doing this for you,” Julian replied, his voice loud but without emotion. “He’s trying to get us rescued so you can get the medical treatment you need to have even a chance at surviving.” 

Tain was momentarily struck mute by Julian’s words. Then he laughed, and the sound reverberated throughout the barracks. 

“I doubt that, Doctor, I doubt that very much, but if that’s truly what you think then I won’t bother trying to convince you otherwise.” His outburst had winded Tain and he seemed unable to converse easily anymore. Tain winced again and laid down on his bunk with a grimace. Julian watched from afar, only ready to intervene if the pain appeared to get any worse. 

His help wasn’t needed because Tain eventually relaxed, the pain easing off, and he was asleep within moments. That served Julian fine. He didn’t have the patience to argue with the paranoid convictions of an ill and self-deluded man. Especially since Tain was determined to try and undermine Garak at every opportunity while still commanding his blind loyalty. And for some reason that Julian felt like he didn’t have a hope of ever understanding, Garak was willing to give Tain that loyalty no matter how much he was mocked or belittled. 

Though it was frustrating, there was little that Julian could do about it. Garak would keep striving to get Tain's approval, no matter the personal cost. And while it happened over and over, Julian didn't think he would ever get used to it.

 

Another day was over. 

It was late in the evening and the alarm to signal to the prisoners that food was available for them had just rung out, but Julian wasn’t interested in eating just yet. His earlier conversation with Tain had left a bad taste in his mouth and he hadn’t followed when Tain had awoken to leave for the compound to get his meal. Julian hoped that he remained out there with the other Cardassian prisoners for the rest of the evening. Martok had been exhausted after three continuous days keeping watch, though he had refused to admit it. Julian guessed that he had left for his own barracks to rest rather than to get his rations as he had claimed. 

That left Garak and Julian alone in the barracks, or as alone as one could be in a prison. There was never any real sense of privacy here, even when they were alone there was still the Breen, and Julian could still hear the murmurs of people passing outside, but any opportunity to enjoy this near-solitude felt luxurious all the same. It was something to be treasured. 

Julian watched Garak closely while he had the chance, ensuring that the strain of the day hadn’t proved too overwhelming for him. They were all tired, but there was no doubt that the past few days had been the hardest for Garak. It certainly showed, the man was always in a near-permanent state of exhaustion. At this moment, Garak’s eyes were lightly closed, his back was pushed firmly against the wall and his hands were folded in front of him.

Julian spoke lightly so as not to startle him. “You should really eat to keep your strength up before you go to sleep. Did you want to get dinner?”

A brief pause and Garak gave a half-hearted wave. 

“No, you go on without me.” 

“I can sit with you for a bit,” Julian suddenly offered, and Garak opened his eyes to consider him, perplexed. 

“If you’re hungry you should get your meal while you can. Don’t feel obligated to stay on my account.” 

“I don’t, I enjoy your company. We can both leave together in a few minutes.”

Garak shook his head and looked at Julian with exasperated fondness, as if he found Julian’s explanation hard to believe. Still, he relented with a small shrug. 

“If you must,” he said, patting the spot beside him.

With a grin, Julian settled himself beside Garak and he stretched his legs out in front of him with a relieved groan. They sat together side-by-side, their shoulders brushing and their fingers nearly touching. Though Garak was finished with his work for the day, Julian could feel his body thrumming with lingering tension. Julian didn’t find this to be unsurprising, Garak’s task wasn’t an easy one even without factoring in his fear of enclosed spaces. For Garak’s sake, Julian hoped that Garak would be finished sooner than expected. All this time spent in such cramped conditions was obviously taking its toll on him. 

An idea of came to him with such sudden clarity that he instantly straightened up. Maybe there was something he could do to help after all. The hard part would be convincing Garak that it was a good idea, but Julian was willing to try. 

“You’re very tense,” Julian noted lightly. Garak didn’t even bother to respond to his remark; instead he gave an unamused grunt. His eyes were closed once again and his arms were folded tightly against his chest. 

“You should let me help you,” Julian insisted. “All this stress on your body isn’t good for you.” 

Garak gave a huff of laughter. “And how do you suppose you do that?” he intoned, not taking Julian the slightest bit seriously. 

Julian narrowed his eyes in response to Garak’s scornful response. Before he could change his mind, he spoke in a commanding tone. 

“Shift your body away from me.”

This inspired an more immediate response from Garak, who snapped his eyes open and twisted around to face Julian, wide-eyed and nonplussed. 

“Doctor?”

Julian laughed at Garak’s overstated reaction. 

“There’s nothing to worry about - I’m going to give you a massage.”

There was a long pause as Garak stared at him in abject confusion. Evidently, Garak had no idea what to make of Julian’s offer.

“I’m sorry Doctor, I think I must have misheard you. What did you say?”

Julian let out a long-suffering sigh. “You heard me well enough, Garak,” he chastised, bumping his shoulder affectionately against Garak’s. “It’ll help, I promise.” 

Garak looked at Julian with suspicion but, surprisingly, he did as Julian asked and presented him with a full view of his back. Julian hoped that his idea would do more good than harm. If anything, Garak looked tenser now than he did a few moments ago.

He nearly didn’t get a chance to find out. 

Garak yelped the second Julian placed both of his hands over top of his ridged shoulders, and he spun back around to bat Julian’s hands away, his eyes stormy with anxious indignation. 

“Doctor,” he hissed, looking around nervously, “what do you think you are doing?!”

Julian put his hands up, trying to convey that he meant nothing malicious, that he was just as taken aback as Garak. 

“I’m trying to help you relax,” he countered, unexpectantly finding himself on the defensive. He knew that shoulders were a sensitive area for Cardassians, but he hadn’t realized they were _that_ sensitive.

“By touching my shoulders?” Garak crossed his arms in front of him irately and his eyes shot towards the door as if he expected someone to walk in at that very moment. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Doctor, are you aware of the meaning of such a gesture to Cardassians? I can only hope for your sake that the answer is no.”

“Well, no, seeing as you had no issues about doing it to me when we first met.” 

Garak sputtered, caught off guard by Julian’s swift rebuttal. So rare were the times when Garak failed to have a ready answer in any argument that Julian was unable to resist allowing himself to enjoy the thrill of victory in accomplishing just that. He raised his eyebrows and grinned teasingly at Garak, but he kept his moment of satisfaction brief. The entire purpose of this was to ease Garak’s distress, not add to it. It wouldn’t do much good if Garak ended up storming out of the room because of his teasing. 

“Alright, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize touching one another’s shoulders was considered such a private act for Cardassians,” Julian conceded with an apologetic nod, and he noted that Garak relaxed slightly. “At least for humans, a massage doesn’t have to be sexual - we generally have them to relieve stress or muscle tension. Look, it’s entirely up to you but I really do think it would help you feel better.”

Sceptical, Garak grumbled and refused to meet his gaze. 

“And I promise I’ll keep away from the shoulders,” Julian added. 

For a moment, it seemed that Garak was going to decline Julian’s offer. He finally looked at Julian with hesitance and suspicion until, unexpectedly, his face softened, and he slowly turned to present his back to Julian for a second time.

Julian smiled widely, touched by Garak’s willingness to give this another try. Gently, he placed his hands Garak’s back, all the while hyperaware of the thin layer of Garak’s shirt that served as a barrier between his hands and Garak’s skin. Garak instinctively hunched his shoulders as soon as Julian made contact with his body, still on his guard. 

“Just relax,” Julian murmured softly. “You’re meant to enjoy this.” 

Contrary to Julian’s suggestion, Garak barely relaxed at all. If anything, he seemed committed not to get a shred of enjoyment out of Julian’s light, exploratory touches. He stared dispassionately ahead, his shoulders still hunched over and unyielding and with his hands braced tightly over his knees. 

Julian continued to smile contentedly, though he knew Garak couldn’t see it. He wasn’t new to giving massages, in fact he was quite skilled at it, albeit he had usually done them in much more intimate settings, and he was eager to show Garak just how pleasurable an experience they could be. Especially for someone under so much stress. 

Slowly, he began to knead the tight muscles in Garak’s upper back with gentle firmness, coaxing all the aches and pains away from tense muscles. As he had anticipated, it didn’t take long for Garak’s initial edginess to fade away. Julian’s hands glided up and down Garak’s back as, gradually, Garak relaxed his shoulders and he let out a deep sigh of pleasure. He leaned deeper into Julian’s touch. 

Encouraged, Julian began to apply even more pressure with his hands, rubbing small circles over the tenser muscles that he could find. Garak shivered when Julian began to focus on the muscles in his upper back, about as close as Julian dared get to Garak’s shoulders. 

“Are you alright?” Julian asked softly, ready to stop if Garak gave even the smallest indication that he’d had enough. He was relieved when Garak made a small noise of agreement that sounded almost like a contented purr. Definitely enjoying it then, and Julian was enjoying it just as much. He was thrilled at the intimacy between them; they’d never been as physically close as they were right now. 

Julian carried on for another ten minutes, mapping the feel of Garak’s upper back with his hands. When he stopped, he did so reluctantly, but the end result pleased him: the rigidity Garak had been carrying in his back and shoulders had seemingly disappeared for good. Garak seemed years younger, entirely reinvigorated. 

“Well?” Julian asked, a hint of smugness creeping into his voice. 

Garak slowly straightened his back with a groan. “It wasn’t terrible,” he admitted with a lazy smile. Julian grinned back, pleased. 

Garak shifted closer, taking Julian by surprise. “I’ll have to make sure to return the favour one day,” Garak said with a playful grin, as he dared to take Julian’s hand in his own. 

Julian looked down at their enjoined hands, delighted. Whatever Garak’s intention, long gone were the days when Julian was so easily flustered by Garak’s flirting, and he matched Garak’s intense gaze with one of his own. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” he replied, grasping Garak’s hand tightly in his own and stroking the grey skin with the pad of his thumb. Garak looked simultaneously surprised and pleased by Julian’s reply. Encouraged, Julian shuffled even closer to close the distance between them. 

At that moment, the doors banged open and Tain strode into the room, his eyes quickly finding them. Garak let go of Julian’s hand and pushed himself a short distance away, but he knew it was too late; Tain had seen enough.

Except, nothing came of it. 

To Julian’s astonishment, Tain passed by them without comment, though he looked at Garak with a furious expression. There was nothing to be relieved about. Julian knew that Tain’s silence had little to do with mercy or kindness. No, Tain was almost certainly saving this information for later; he would wait until he thought it would be most advantageous for him. 

Keeping his distance away from Julian, Garak hastily rose to his feet. 

“It’s getting late,” he said to Tain as much as Julian, and he hurriedly smoothed out his rumpled shirt. “Perhaps it’s time we went to get our rations before bed. I do hope it’s something different than those odd-flavoured bars we’ve gotten for the past two nights now. A little variety would be nice.” 

It was clear that Garak was nervous and looking for a quick escape from the barracks as if Tain had introduced a new and dangerous element to the room just by virtue of seeing them alone together. 

“Elim,” Tain called out just as Julian stood up to join him. Garak froze in place with a hint of grimace on his face that he quickly schooled into an impassive look. 

Tain regarded him unemotionally. “I’d like to speak with you for a moment. Privately.” 

Julian stood by Garak’s side and he lightly placed his hand on Garak’s upper arm. He didn’t want to leave without Garak, but he knew what the likely outcome was going to be if Garak had to choose between them. Still, he had to make sure. 

“Garak?” 

Garak pulled his arm away from Julian and turned to face him, looking as if he was surprised to see that Julian was still in the room. He made a quick look at Tain over his shoulder and then he gave Julian an apologetic nod. He had the strained smile of a condemned man trying to appear unaffected. 

“My apologies, Doctor. Go on without me – I’ll join you later.”

Julian looked on with concern, but he did as Garak asked. He was unsurprised when Garak never joined him and when he returned to the barracks Garak didn’t say a single word. 

 

In the end, it took Garak another three days before he was confident that a message had been successfully sent. 

Those three days were absolute hell for Garak. He escaped from the crawlspace almost every hour; oftentimes desperate for a break from the dark and the confined space even before Julian ordered him out for a rest. Julian was always there to meet him, though he wished that he could do more to help. It made him feel useless when there was little more he could do except take Garak’s pulse and encourage him to rest whenever he thought Garak was pushing himself too hard. 

The massage now seemed like a wasted effort. A mistake, even. What had started as a genuine attempt to help Garak had only ended up doing more harm than good after Tain’s ill-timed arrival. Their tentative closeness had shattered, like ice fracturing over a frozen lake. Making things worse was the fact that Tain had taken to spending a lot more time in the barracks, and his presence was only making the awkwardness between him and Garak even more pronounced. It was intensely frustrating because, while Garak wasn’t outright ignoring Julian, he had started treating him with a cordial aloofness as a means to put some distance between them. 

Then, finally, it was over. 

Near the end of the sixth day, Garak emerged from the crawlspace with an expression of empty relief. He stood up slowly and wiped down his clothes methodically with both hands. Both Julian and Martok looked at him expectantly, but neither rushed him into speaking. The room was quiet; the air brimming with anticipation. 

“It’s done,” Garak said quietly as he pulled himself back up to his full height. Looking a little lost, he picked up the wall panel and covered the crawlspace for what Julian hoped was the final time. 

Garak straggled over to his bunk and collapsed on it with an exhausted sigh. Julian followed closely behind and draped the flimsy blanket over his body. He knelt down and gave Garak’s arm a brief squeeze, but Garak was already asleep; the past week had finally caught up with him. 

In the silence that followed, Julian exchanged a long look with Martok and all their fears and worries hung heavy in the air. There was nothing more that could be done. Whatever came next was out of their hands. All they could do now was wait and hope.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, sorry for any unintentional spelling/grammar mistakes that I missed while I was editing.

_Things can’t go on like this anymore._

That single sentence ran through Julian’s mind like a mantra as he nervously prepared himself for what he was going to do next. His plan was to confront Garak, a decision that only solidified in his head when saw Garak enter their barracks, alone. Nervous, he allowed a few minutes to pass, and in that time he nearly talked himself out of following Garak inside almost half a dozen times. 

He took a deep breath before entering the barracks, amazed that he was really going through with this. The doors swished open and he stalked inside with an expression of overstated contempt that felt out of place on his face. He zeroed in on Garak right away, finding him alone in the room and seated on his bunk. Just as Julian had expected him to be. 

He struck out towards Garak and stopped just short of where he was seated so that he could glare down at his startled friend. Without allowing Garak even a second to get a word in and derail his carefully-planned words, Julian flung the question that had been on his mind for so long, his words laced with the perfect blend of hostility and disdain that he surprised even himself at how easily he was able to pull it off. 

“Just how much longer is this going to go on for, Garak?”

Everything about how he presented himself, from his words down to his posture, was deliberately more antagonistic than what came naturally to him, so much so that the excessive theatricality of his performance made Julian feel slightly ridiculous. That feeling eased slightly when Garak looked up at Julian and gave him his full, albeit bemused, consideration for the first time in days. 

Cool eyes met his - eyes that gave nothing away and were studying his face closely - but Julian didn’t so much as flinch. He’d finally found a moment to speak with Garak alone and he wasn’t going to waste this opportunity. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

Julian narrowed his eyes and scoffed as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. His voice was clipped and icy to underscore how little he thought of Garak’s reply. 

“Don’t pretend like this is such a surprise. You’ve been avoiding me for the better part of two days now, and you’ve barely spoken to me since that night in the barracks; it’s as if you can’t stand to be around me. I thought I’d come ask you whether this is going to last until we get rescued or if this is going to continue once we reach the Station, because I’d like to know.”

Though his words were dripping with resentment, it wasn’t all an act; Julian truly meant what he said as his frustration had been building for days. In the aftermath of Julian’s impromptu massage five days earlier, Garak had been steadfastly avoiding him and they’d rarely spoken beyond awkward greetings that would, at best, morph into stilted conversations: Garak always the one to bring the conversation to a merciful end. It had only gotten worse since their subspace message had been sent two days ago. Now they didn’t talk at all – an almost impressive feat considering how small the internment camp was. 

To Julian’s intense displeasure, Garak had, once again, become Tain’s devoted shadow and he rarely left the man’s side for any reason. Well, unless Julian was conducting his twice-daily examination of Tain – then Garak didn’t seem to mind making himself conspicuously absent. 

Those sessions were beyond aggravating for Julian, who resented Tain for causing his estrangement from Garak, while Tain bore them stoically and no longer tried to provoke Julian, either because he didn’t have enough energy to spare or because he was satisfied with where things stood and no longer felt the need to involve himself in Julian’s affairs. 

In fact, there was no part of this entire situation that was easy for Julian. He’d become used to having Garak all too himself again, and for Julian it was enough that Garak was alive and back in his life again. But then to find out that Garak was open to pursuing something more with Julian? It was almost painful that their mutual attraction had been so abruptly put to an end without hope that they’d ever get another chance to revive it. The unfairness of it all felt as raw as an open wound. Julian yearned for Garak’s touch, but whatever Tain had said to Garak that night had been enough to prevent Garak from seeking out Julian’s company. 

Adding another layer of misery was the fact that Julian still had no idea whether their message had been successfully received - much less decoded - by Captain Sisko and the crew of Deep Space 9. The waiting was starting to grate on Julian. He was tired of this place: tired of the bland food, his uncomfortable bunk, the absence of a proper sonic shower, the cramped conditions, and, most of all, of living under the threat that he, Martok or Garak would be selected for the combat ring to fight the Jem’Hadar. Their subspace message had recently introduced a new concern: that the Jem’Hadar might descend upon them after having intercepted their message or having received an early warning from the Changeling acting in Julian’s place onboard the Station. That was the worst-case scenario. 

He could tell that he wasn’t the only one who was worried. Julian had observed Garak looking apprehensively at the wall panels almost every morning and evening, as if readying himself for an eventual return into the crawlspace. As much as Julian wanted to offer Garak even the slightest bit of reassurance, he knew that Garak wouldn’t appreciate it, especially with Tain constantly in earshot. 

It was all so frustrating. 

If Martok had guessed what exactly had happened between Garak and Julian, he didn’t talk specifics with Julian. Still, he’d tried to help Julian in his own way while they’d toured the compound earlier that morning; namely with advice that was perhaps better-suited for a Klingon than for Julian.

“Forgive me for prying, Doctor, but I’ve noticed that you and Garak have not spoken much of late,” Martok said, keeping a close eye on the Jem’Hadar guards and taking care not to mention their subspace message in an area where they could potentially be overheard. 

Julian sighed. “No, we haven’t. We haven’t spoken at all, really.” He gave a tentative half-smile and added, “I suppose that’s been obvious.” 

Martok nodded in sympathy and he placed a heavy hand on Julian’s shoulder in a show of support. “I understand how difficult this must be – I once had the same problem myself with my now-wife, Sirella. My heart would leap in my chest whenever I saw her, though I meant nothing to her the first time we met; I had to prove myself worthy of her attention.” 

“So what did you do?”

Martok stood up straighter as he thought back on a memory that filled him with so much pride. 

“Through battle, Doctor. Overcoming great adversity through battle proves the worth of any Klingon, and my worth was certainly proved that day. I was working as a lowly civilian labourer – considered worthy of no respect or notice – when the Bird of Prey where I worked was boarded by a crew of Romulans. I may not have been viewed as a great warrior before, but my bravery and prowess on that day won me my first commission as an officer of the Klingon Empire… and the favour of Sirella.” He gave a melancholy smile, bereft of his usual intensity. “My thoughts have turned to her every day since my long captivity began.” 

He looked at Julian uncertainly, suddenly unsure of how to apply his past success to Julian’s situation. After a long pause he said, “Perhaps if you fought another prisoner to demonstrate your great strength, you would be more successful in capturing Garak’s attention.”

Julian didn’t doubt that Martok was right about that. At the same time, he also suspected that Martok’s solution wouldn’t be nearly as effective in resolving Garak’s evasiveness as it had been in wooing Sirella. 

“Thanks for the suggestion, but I think I’ll just try talking to him.” Julian gave a good-natured smile and with a slight shrug he continued, “If Garak doesn’t want to talk to me than that’s his decision, but I can’t force him to speak with me if he doesn’t want to.” 

“How human,” Martok replied, looking at Julian with unconcealed disappointment and confusion. “Has that not been what you’ve been doing until now without success?” 

Julian hadn’t replied to that and the conversation had moved on to other topics. Still, he hadn’t been able to get Martok’s words out of his head because, in a way, Martok was right. It was very human of him, and maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe what he needed to do was try a more Cardassian approach. 

Admittedly, he didn’t know very much about how Cardassians typically interacted with one another, only what he’d gleamed from Dukat and the odd Cardassian delegation to the Station. Still, he figured he’d seen and heard enough that he could get by. Really, for all Garak’s love for subtlety, Cardassians seemed to appreciate a more direct - though some might say confrontational – way of communicating with one another. Even when Cardassians wanted to convey affection they would come across as rude and irritated on purpose. Miles had told him all about his misunderstanding with the Cardassian engineer, Gilora Rejal: how she’d taken Miles’s more abrasive personality as a blatant attempt at flirting and how she’d responded in kind. 

Well, if it worked well enough for Miles than Julian was willing to give it a try. Garak already wasn’t talking to him; what did he have to lose?

Which explained why he was intentionally provoking an argument with Garak and all in the hopes that Garak would actually talk to him again. Against Julian’s wildest expectations, it seemed to be working. 

Garak continued to regard him coolly and then, unexpectedly, he laughed; an almost giddy laugh that Garak cut short when he placed a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound. He shook his head at Julian with evident amusement. 

“And what makes you so confident that I didn’t seclude myself in our barracks because I wanted you to come find me?”

That wasn’t part of the plan. Deflated, Julian’s face fell.

“You did?” 

Garak looked at him smugly, obviously enjoying the experience of watching Julian make a complete fool out of himself. 

“Of course I did. Forgive me for putting it so bluntly, but you’re not particularly adept at hiding your feelings – a very charming attribute so please don’t fret. No, your unhappiness with me has been quite clear for days now, though I appreciate your rather Cardassian-style attempt at conversation. A little too forceful and not quite the correct context – but a good try nonetheless.” The playful smile dropped from Garak’s face as he turned his attention to more serious matters. “As much as I enjoy our little arguments, I feel that this conversation isn’t best-suited for it.”

Julian sat beside Garak, never taking his eyes off him as he did so. “And what kind of conversation would that be?” he asked with a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

Garak stared down at his hands as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I want to apologize to you for what happened – that night we were left alone in the barracks. I’m sure you had the best of intentions,” he added, patting Julian briefly on the knee, “but it was a severe lack of judgement on my part. I let things…progress further than they should have.” 

There was something disarming about his response that Julian was left momentarily stunned. He was accustomed to Garak side-stepping difficult conversations, almost with ease, and Julian had expected the same from him now. It suddenly felt as if he’d walked into a conversation that he wasn’t prepared to have; a conversation that Garak had spent the last few days readying himself for so he could counter any of Julian’s arguments. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Garak. We did nothing wrong.” Julian replied, furrowing his brow. “Unless I misread what you wanted?”

Garak shook his head and Julian felt hope rise in his chest, only for it to be crushed a moment later. “Whether I wanted it or not isn’t relevant. That kind of closeness between us in the future is out of the question.”

Julian thought he had a good idea of why Garak believed that. He gave an exaggerated nod, not trying to conceal his annoyance. “I see. This isn’t what you want at all; it’s because Tain ordered you to stay away from me.”

“It’s because of many reasons – Tain is only one of them.” 

Julian didn’t believe that for a second. 

“How are you content to let him decide how you should live your life? This is the man who exiled you, who didn’t care if you lived or died when you were deathly ill, and he has done nothing but insult you and order you around since I’ve arrived here. Whatever loyalty you think you still owe him isn’t worth it – you don’t have to let him have so much control over you anymore.” 

“Again, we return to your misunderstanding of Cardassians,” Garak said stiffly, unimpressed with Julian’s outburst. “I’m willing to discuss many things with you, Doctor, but my relationship with Tain is not one of them.” The warning tone that had entered Garak’s voice couldn’t be missed, but Julian wasn’t prepared to let this go just yet. 

“His only goal is to make you miserable,” he argued back. 

“And why does a person like me deserve happiness,” Garak replied with his usual reserved formality. “We’ve only had three years worth of lunchtime conversations – scarcely much opportunity for you to deem me worthy of happiness when you know nothing of my past, nothing of what I’m capable of doing. Though, I supposed that didn’t stop you from putting yourself in harm’s way for my sake before.” Garak gave him a small smile. “Really, Doctor, if my supposed death was the driving force behind your ill-considered infatuation with me than Tain has done you a favour.” 

“I don’t believe that’s true,” Julian insisted, seizing on that last point with great certainty. If he’d built up some idealized version of Garak in his mind after a year’s worth of grieving than two weeks trapped together in the worst of conditions would surely have set that perception straight. He hadn’t even known what to make of his feelings for Garak in the aftermath, and it was only now that he was more sure of himself now than ever. “And I think you know that’s not true either.”

“Nonetheless, it doesn’t change anything,” Garak said with grim finality. “Don’t view this as a reflection of yourself, but this is the way it has to be.”

Julian let out a slow breath of air, gripped by frustration. “Does Tain know that you’re talking to me right now?”

Garak glanced away, uncomfortable. “We discussed it beforehand.”

Of course they did. Apparently Garak didn’t withhold anything from Tain. “And he allowed it.” 

“I reminded him that it would be prudent of us not to sever ties with you so quickly.” 

Julian realized with a small shock what Garak meant by that. “Since I’m your only way to get rescued if Captain Sisko comes looking for me.”

Garak winced. “Crudely put, but yes. I reminded him that we’ll be relying on your goodwill and that of the Federation for the foreseeable future.” 

Which opened up a whole new question, and Julian latched onto it with newfound hope. “And what then? What will you do when you’re back on the Station for good?” Because, maybe by that point, with all this behind them, Garak would reconsider. 

Garak gave him a gentle look. “Doctor...Julian, I doubt that I’ll be staying on the Station for long.”

Julian frowned; taken aback by yet another unpleasant surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Why should I stay? I never enjoyed living on the Station – in fact I detested it. With nothing for me to go back to, it makes even less sense to return. Neither Tain nor myself can live like we used to – but I can return to Cardassia with him.” Garak’s voice turned to steel. “And I intend to do that.” 

Julian let his shoulders slacken in defeat. So that was it then. Garak had chosen to throw his lot in with Tain, and by doing so had closed the door to any future relationship – friendship or otherwise - with Julian. There was no way that he could compete against both Tain’s disapproval and the possibility that Garak might be able to end his exile. 

The dejection must have shown on his face because Garak sighed and placed a comforting hand on Julian’s arm. “I’ve been overly harsh with you, and I’d rather not spend what are hopefully our last few days here not speaking to each other considering how trying the past few days have been for me.” Garak hesitated and then moved his hand to cover Julian’s, speaking softly. “I would always regret it if I never told you that you were the only person on that Station whom I considered a friend – your company meant more to me than I can adequately express, and I’ll always look back fondly on our lunches together.”

Garak removed his hand and pulled himself up from his bunk to make his escape. “I should leave, Tain will be expecting me soon,” he murmured, and Julian clenched his fist upon hearing Tain’s name. 

With some hesitation, Garak looked first to the door and then back at Julian before he lifted his hand to present his palm. Puzzled, Julian gave him a questioning look. “Cardassians touch palms to say goodbye to their closest friends,” Garak explained, his tone hopeful. “I hope that I can still count you amongst them.” 

Without needing more of an explanation, Julian lifted his hand and pressed his palm lightly against Garak’s. A few seconds passed in silence, Julian scarcely able to meet Garak’s eyes, before Garak withdrew his hand and let it rest at his side. He offered a small smile that Julian couldn’t manage to match. 

“Farewell, Doctor,” Garak said, his expression unreadable, and the words sounded like a final goodbye. With that, he swept out of the room. 

 

Julian could have easily stayed inside the barracks feeling sorry for himself for the rest of the day. He very nearly did. After all, he’d already lost Garak once and now it seemed that he’d be losing him all over again. It was a bitter pill to swallow. 

He wondered what Miles or Jadzia would make of all this: Dr. Julian Bashir, the man with a reputation on Deep Space 9 for his numerous dating exploits, brought so low after being rejected by a former Cardassian spy that, only a month ago, he’d believed to be dead. He would have laughed if he wasn’t feeling so miserable. 

But no, he refused to mope. There was enough to be miserable about in this place that Julian worried if he let himself obsess over one thing that he’d inevitably spiral and be overcome. At least knowing Garak’s decision was far better than the ambiguity of the past few days. He’d said his piece and it did nothing to sway Garak, and that was something he’d just have to accept, however bitterly. He’d made the mistake of trying to convince people uninterested in him to just ‘give him a chance’ a number of times in his younger years – Jadzia came to mind. Thankfully, he’d learned since then. 

As always, seeking out Martok was his solution to help take his mind off things, and when he trudged into Martok’s barracks the older Klingon straightened up in his bunk, the anticipation clear on his face. 

“Did you speak with Garak?” he inquired. 

Julian nodded without elaborating further, and Martok nodded, intuitively understanding from Julian’s silence how their discussion had gone. 

“A walk then?” he suggested, and Julian gratefully agreed. 

It was always a trade-off between staying in the barracks or venturing out into the compound. Most of the other prisoners seemed to prefer spending their time in the compound, especially the ones who had been there the longest. Julian could understand why easily enough. It was much less cramped, the lighting was brighter, and there was more room to walk around and talk in small groups. It wasn’t much, but it made a difference. 

The most obvious downside was the constant presence of the Jem’Hadar soldiers, who were all too eager to rough up any prisoner who got a little too close. The casual brutality that Julian witnessed on a daily basis was chilling, and he’d been lucky enough so far not to have been the target of it. And, of course, there was another clear danger that lurked in the back of the minds of every prisoner: the combat ring. Julian hadn’t seen it put to any use since his first day in the internment camp, but that didn’t mean the threat wasn’t a real one. He’d seen what had happened to Garak, who’d assured him he’d gotten off lightly. Julian could only hope that they’d be rescued before he saw it in action a second time.

He wasn’t so lucky.

About twenty minutes into their walk, a group of ten Jem’Hadar soldiers exited from the inner area of the compound and neatly assembled around the combat ring, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Julian. Alarmed, Julian nudged Martok’s arm and nodded towards the Jem’Hadar.

Martok stopped in place and watched the proceedings with unease. 

“You should return to your barracks at once, Doctor,” Martok ordered, “before they come looking for volunteers.” Unconsciously, his hand rose to rub his ruined eye and Julian remembered just how he’d acquired that old injury. 

An anxious murmur broke out and was spreading throughout the compound as one by one the other prisoners saw the growing cluster of Jem’Hadar. Many did just as Martok had suggested to Julian and were already making their way to their respective barracks, though a few stayed to brave the Jem’Hadar’s scrutiny. 

Julian couldn’t help it, he looked around wildly for Garak, but he had no luck spotting him. “Alright,” Julian said eventually. “But both of us are going back.”

Martok looked about ready to argue that a Klingon never backed down from a potential fight, but Julian was clear that if Martok didn’t leave than Julian wouldn’t leave either. Unhappily, Martok agreed and they separated, walking quickly to their own barracks. Julian kept himself composed despite his growing fear; he still didn’t know where Garak was. 

Then, from the corner of his eye, Julian saw four Jem’Hadar guards head off a lone Romulan who was attempting to get himself to safety. With no hope of escape, the Romulan went limp as if resigning himself to his fate and allowed the Jem’Hadar to drag him towards the combat ring. Julian recognized him. He’d seen him in the compound before, though they had never spoken. He felt a deep swell of compassion, though he didn’t even know the man, and he very nearly intervened.

He didn’t though; he knew it wouldn’t do any good.

He’d never felt more useless in his life, and he entered his barracks feeling just as wretched as he did when he’d left mere minutes ago. To his surprise and relief, Garak was already there, sitting just where he’d been when they’d spoken earlier. Except this time he wasn’t alone; Tain was laying in the bunk next to his, barely moving. Julian looked at them Garak curiously and moved over to stand beside Tain. 

“He’s asleep,” Garak clarified. Then a bit quieter, “it doesn’t take very much to tire him anymore.” 

Julian knelt beside Tain, frowning as he leaned in to do a quick check of his condition, aware that this was yet another instance where there was very little he could do to help, despite Garak’s faith in him. 

Garak watched him intently. “His condition is worsening, just as you said it might. This past week has been especially bad.”

Julian nodded, grim. “It certainly seems to be.” Taking pity on Garak, he added, “but he’ll be fine once we get back to the Station. I’ll have everything I need there to help him.” 

What went unspoken between them was the possibility that they might never return to Deep Space 9. Regardless, Garak gave him an appreciative nod. 

“And what brings you back to the barracks so soon?” Garak asked as Julian returned to his bunk so he could sit down. 

“The Jem’Hadar, what else?” Julian replied. “They’ve all gathered around the combat ring again. Martok thought it best that we leave to avoid their attention. One of the Romulans was not as lucky as we were.” 

“Better that Romulan than us I suppose,” Garak murmured and Julian gave him a hard look.

“How can you say that?” 

“Trust me Doctor, I’ve been forced to fight the Jem’Hadar twice now – though I always felt like Itak’ika was only doing it to take out his frustrations rather than as a training tool. You’d be saying the same if the Jem’Hadar had ever picked you to fight them.” 

Julian fell back in his bunk with a groan and he twinned his hands overtop his stomach. They waited together without speaking, the silence punctured only once when the two Romulans who shared their barracks entered, whispering furiously amongst themselves. Evidently, they’d also decided that they were better off in the barracks. 

Still, Julian was restless. What he was doing seemed wrong: hiding away when he could be put to better use. The Jem’Hadar had selected their victim and Julian was probably the one person in the entire prison camp who could be of the most help to the unfortunate Romulan when all was said and done. 

That would put an end to his feelings of uselessness. 

He quickly sat back up. “I should go back out there,” Julian said, testing the idea out loud. 

Garak’s head snapped up in alarm and even the two Romulans stopped their conversation to look at him in confusion. Garak chuckled nervously. “For what possible reason? It’s far safer to remain in here.” 

Julian stood up, straightening his shoulders and he gave Garak a cool stare. “I’m still going. As far as I know, I’m the only doctor around here; maybe I can finally be of some use once the Jem’Hadar clear off.” Upon seeing Garak’s worried look, he added, “I won’t get too close, I promise.”

That didn’t seem to reassure Garak. “I would strongly advise that you wait in here. The Jem’Hadar may not be satisfied by their current opponent and go looking for another.”

Julian shook his head. “I’ll be fine – it’s not as if humans are famed for their physical strength. I wouldn’t be much of a match for the Jem’Hadar – even for fun.” He quickly interrupted Garak’s attempted reply. “I’m going, Garak.”

He ended their discussion by simply leaving the barracks, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. It was a feeling he had missed. 

By now the compound was almost completely deserted, though he wasn’t the only one not in his barracks. A small group remained and, for obvious reasons, all of them were out of sight of the combat ring. Julian took his cue from them and sat down against the wall to his barracks. He could see nothing that was going on, but he could hear the excited shouts and jeers of the Jem’Hadar soldiers who were watching the contest. His lip curled in disgust. At least by being out here he would still know when the Jem’Hadar had left and then he could quickly provide aid to the Romulan. 

He was still close enough to the barracks that he heard its door open and he whipped his head towards the sound. To his great surprise, Garak stepped out into the compound, looking around distastefully. His eyes settled on Julian and he walked over, scanning his surroundings as if he expected to fend off some unforeseen attack. 

“Someone needs to make sure you don’t do anything rash,” Garak said by way of explanation as he sat down beside Julian, though he didn’t look particularly happy about it when Julian smiled at him anyways. Without inviting further conversation, Garak closed his eyes and clenched his hands into fists as they waited for the fight to be over. 

It didn’t take long, only ten minutes, but what must have been a lifetime in the combat ring, before the compound quieted down all at once. 

Garak’s eyes snapped open. “It should be over now,” Garak said, staring straight ahead. “We’ll wait here until we’re sure that the Jem’Hadar have left.”

Ignoring Garak’s advice, Julian pulled himself up from the ground and began to walk towards the combat ring. He heard Garak exclaim loudly in protest and then mutter something incomprehensible in Kardasi as he rushed to catch up. 

Julian skidded to a stop as two Jem’Hadar came into view, dragging the badly-beaten Romulan between them. Itak’ita followed closely behind, watching dispassionately as the two Jem’Hadar dumped the Romulan on the floor by one of the barracks. The three of them turned to leave. 

Julian broke off like a shot towards the wounded Romulan, and he was only vaguely aware of Garak shouting his name in alarm behind him. He knelt in front of the Romulan, checking the man’s battered form, and was shocked at what he saw. 

The damage was extensive; the man had clearly been no match for the Jem’Hadar. Blood from a gash on his forehead streaked down his bruised face and he struggled to breathe, making an alarming wheeze with every faltering breath. 

Julian knew immediately that he couldn’t fix this. That this man was going to die. 

His hands shook. He couldn’t allow this to happen, not while he could do something about it. Carefully, Garak knelt beside Julian and shot him a warning look, as if recognizing what Julian was thinkinge. But Julian was beyond caring. He pulled himself from the ground and advanced a few steps forward. 

“Stop,” he yelled at the departing Jem’Hadar soldiers, “you can’t just leave him like this - he’ll die!”

“Julian,” Garak hissed. “Be silent.” He appeared at Julian’s side and grabbed his arm roughly as if he wanted to shake some sense into him. 

But it was too late, Ikat’ika had already heard, and he paused and turned around to consider Julian. The two Jem’Hadar soldiers stopped in line with their leader to stand at rapt attention. 

Itak’ika gave Julian a cool look. “I think you’ll find that we can do whatever we want.” 

“What this man needs is urgent medical attention because of your barbarity,” Julian shouted back at Ikat’ika, and he swung his free arm back to gesture at the Romulan. “He doesn’t stand a chance without it. You’ve basically handed him a death sentence.”

Itak’ika cocked his head to the side as if genuinely confused by Julian’s demands. 

“So?” 

Julian was struck speechless by the callousness of Itak’ika’s reply and his face twisted into confused disgust. Itak’ika watched him coolly, but then apparently found Julian not worth the effort, and he turned to leave again. 

Julian shouted after Itak’ika. “All I’m asking for is for medical supplies. This is cruel.” 

Itak’ika stopped in place again and, without turning, gave a firm nod to the Jem’Hadar standing to his right. The Jem’Hadar didn’t need any added encouragement, and he marched back towards Julian. 

“Don’t say anything more,” Garak advised, his voice calm and steady, as he let go of Julian’s arm. “Please.”

The Jem’Hadar brought Julian towards Itak’ika, who violently grabbed Julian by the collar of his uniform. He gave a quiet sound of recognition as he pulled Julian away from the silent Jem’Hadar soldier. 

“Yes,” Itak’ika said, “I remember you now - you were so insolent when you spoke with Deyos a few weeks ago. It seems you haven’t learned to be silent since.”

Julian struggled against the Ita’ika’s tight grip on the nape of his neck. It was hard to breathe. Itak’ika watched him flail for a moment and then called to the guards behind him, who were watching the proceedings dispassionately. 

“Place the human in isolation.”

At that, Garak rushed over and calmly tried to insert himself between Julian and Itak’ika, his arms raised in appeal. “That’s really not necessary. The good Doctor hasn’t been here for long and he unfortunately just doesn’t understand-”

Itak’ika shoved Julian into the ready arms of his Jem’Hadar soldiers, and slugged Garak hard in the stomach. 

Julian could only watch helplessly as Garak dropped to his knees, wheezing. Itak’ika strode away from Garak without a second glace, and the two Jem’Hadar soldiers began to march Julian out of the compound. Julian fought against them, valiantly struggling to keep Garak in sight for as long as he could. Garak looked up, and Julian locked wild and desperate eyes with him.

“Garak!” he called out, and the grip on his arm became so tight that he cried out in pain and was forced to face forwards. 

He was hauled out of the main compound and brought through the same corridor that had once taken him to Deyos’ office, except now the Jem’Hadar only stopped once they reached a small door that was isolated from anything else. Itak’ika used the control panel to unlock the door without a word, and the Jem’Hadar soldiers who had been pulling him along practically threw him inside. 

The door shut behind him as Julian stumbled, managing to catch himself on the wall before he was left in total darkness. The last thing he heard was Itak’ika order the computer to lock him inside and then the departing footsteps as Itak’ika and the guards left him. 

And then, there was only darkness and silence.

Julian reached out his arm, blindly feeling his way around his new prison cell. There was barely enough room for him to walk around; it was only slightly larger than a medical supply closet. If he were to stretch his arms out, he would almost be able to reach both sides of the wall. 

He was still full of adrenaline from the intensity of the past few minutes and he trembled, breathing heavily. Furious, he wanted to bang his fist against the wall in anger, the urge nearly overwhelming if it weren’t for the fact that he would only end up injuring himself. Instead, he paced the empty room until he exhausted himself, but the room was devoid of even a bed, and Julian was forced to sit on the cold, hard floor. Shivering, he wrapped his arms around his legs and laid his head against his knees. 

There was nothing to distract him, nothing to hold his attention. He was stuck here until the Jem’Hadar saw fit to release him. 

He wondered how long he could stand it.

 

Four days. 

That’s how long he was left alone with only his thoughts to dwell on. 

He thought of his friends on Deep Space 9, reliving old conversations and past missions to pass the time, and he wondered how they were all faring without him. His contemplations only grew more morose as his thoughts inevitably turned to the Changeling who’d taken his place. It’d been so long now since he’d been taken prisoner; almost an entire month had passed. Seemingly, no one had realized that he’d gone missing. He’d honestly expected to have been rescued by now. 

Other times he thought of Garak. He wanted to see him so fiercely that his bones ached. Humourlessly, he realized that Tain had gotten what he’d wanted – Garak couldn’t get to him here. Not that it mattered anymore. 

He sat hunched over in his tiny cell with his eyes shut for hours on end, hoping that he might drift off to sleep – a longing that became increasingly out-of-reach the longer he was there. The only way he could mark the passage of time was when he was given food once a day, not nearly enough to satisfy his hunger, and when he was escorted from his cell twice a day to use a washroom. No one spoke a single word to him. He felt like he was going mad. 

And then, finally, a Jem’Hadar guard appeared at his cell, and instead of giving him food he took Julian by the arm and pulled him out of his cell. Julian offered no resistance. No matter where he ended up, he was just glad that he was no longer in isolation.

The first person he saw when he entered the compound was Garak, and Julian’s body sagged from pure relief. Dimly, he realized that Garak must’ve been keeping vigil for him ever since he had been taken away. 

Garak’s expression betrayed nothing but, unlike the last time when Julian had met Deyos, Garak didn’t even wait for the Jem’Hadar to leave before he began to walk hurriedly towards Julian. He raised his hands as he drew closer and the Jem’Hadar took his leave, and Julian slumped gratefully into Garak’s waiting arms. 

“You idiot boy,” Garak said fiercely, pulling Julian tightly into a deep embrace. He pushed Julian away, holding him gently by the arms, and searched Julian’s face desperately as if looking for any indication that he’d been harmed. Satisfied, his face relaxed. “Never do anything so foolish again.”

“Garak,” Julian began, but he immediately faltered and found himself unable to continue. He felt emotionally and physically shattered, so tired that he could barely hold a thought in his mind. Garak must’ve recognized the depth of his exhaustion because he put his hand around Julian’s shoulder and slowly walked Julian back to their barracks. Julian was dimly aware that there were other prisoners around them, whispering amongst themselves at the sight of them, but he didn’t care. 

When he arrived at the barracks, Julian collapsed into his bunk, inwardly marvelling at how tired he felt after four days where he had done practically nothing at all. His eyes felt heavy, and he gave into the urge to close them. Garak knelt beside him, pulling a blanket over his curled-up body. Garak’s hand stroked through his hair, smoothing out the small tangles and he whispered to Julian in murmured Kardasi. Julian thought it was wonderful, even though he couldn’t understand it, and he wanted to tell Garak that, but his voice came out slurred when he attempted speak. He distantly heard Garak shush him, telling him to sleep, but he was too far gone to reply. 

He slept. 

 

He awoke with a gasp as if he was awakening from a nightmare. Anxious and disoriented, he bolted upright and looked around the room wildly to reassure himself that he was no longer trapped in isolation. He calmed when he saw that Garak was still with him, propped up against the wall in the bunk across from Julian, and watching him pensively. Although they were alone in the barracks, Garak made no move to get up when he saw that Julian was awake.

Julian brought a hand to his eyes and rubbed them furiously; he felt as if he had been asleep for ages. He looked up at Garak, wary of the carefully-controlled expression that he wore on his face. 

“How long was I asleep?” 

“Only a few hours,” Garak replied, though his voice and expression were cold; his concern having given way to anger during the time that Julian had been asleep. “Martok was here earlier but I told him I’d get him once you had woken up. I’ll wait until you feel up to visitors, of course.” 

It was then that Garak stood up from his bunk and reached under the blanket that lay in a pile by his feet, pulling out a number of ration bars. 

“I assume that they only had you on half-rations,” Garak said as he handed Julian the few bars that he’d stashed away. 

As unappetizing as they looked, Julian was ravenous, and he began to eat as soon as he snatched them away from Garak. Unoffended, Garak watched silently until Julian was finished eating; his expression unreadable. The meal was exactly what Julian needed, and he felt both stronger and more alert. 

Julian sighed, content, and was about to thank Garak. The words caught in his throat when he took in Garak’s blisteringly cold expression. “I can only hope that you’re satisfied with the outcome of your little tirade,” Garak said. “You’ve been here for nearly a month, you should know how things work here. You never should have done that.”

“You’re angry with me.” Julian noted, incredulous. 

Garak shook his head, though his irate expression suggested otherwise. He looked away and pursed his lips before returning his attention back to Julian. 

“I’m not angry, I’m only struggling to understand how you could possibly have thought that was a good idea.” he replied. “You were lucky that Itak’ika only sent you to isolation when you could very well have been killed for your cheek; every day you were in there I expected to see you brought into the combat ring.”

“But I wasn’t, Garak,” Julian argued, more sharply than he intended. “Although the past four days weren’t exactly pleasant, I’m fine.” 

The fact that Julian wasn’t injured didn’t stop Garak; he seemed resolved not to let this go, and he berated Julian without pause. 

“That’s not the point, Doctor. The point is that you apparently thought it worthwhile to risk your life for some worthless Romulan. What could you possibly have been thinking? That the Jem’Hadar would willingly give you medical supplies just because you wanted them?” 

Julian abandoned any calm or reasoned response in the face of Garak’s scolding. “As you’ve already pointed out, Garak, I am a doctor, and I will not let people suffer needlessly so long as there’s something I can do about it.” 

Garak gave him a look of disgust, anger seeping back into his words. “Oh, for once can you please stop with your idealistic platitudes. It’s not so endearing anymore. That Romulan was as good as dead, but you had to involve yourself regardless.”

“Yes, well then, I suppose you think that I should be like you, every single move calculated without thought or care over how it might affect others. The means always justify the end - is that it, Garak?” 

Garak threw up his hands in frustration at Julian’s sarcasm and walked a few paces away as if he wanted nothing more to do with Julian. “I hope you think it was worth it for all the good it did.” 

Julian’s shrank into himself as the realization set in that he hadn’t even asked about the Romulan’s condition yet; that he had let something so obvious slip past him. “What happened to him?” 

Garak seemed to have realized his mistake as soon as he said the words because he immediately spun around to gauge Julian’s reaction. Seeing Julian’s distress, he swallowed, and his voice was so low that Julian could barely make out what he was saying. “His injuries were too severe. There was nothing that could be done - he died not long after you were taken away.”

The words came as a blow; a punch to the stomach. He knew, distantly, that there was nothing more that Julian could have done, that Garak was right about that, but he still felt like he had failed in some way. That he could have kept his mouth shut instead of instigating a fight with the Itak’ika; that he could have at least eased the Romulan’s suffering. 

He drew in a laboured breath, the crushing hopelessness of it all finally hitting him all at once. Everything seemed far away. All he could concentrate on was his perceived failure. 

In an instant, Garak was sitting beside him on his bunk, reaching out and then pulling Julian against his chest. Julian allowed himself to be enfolded in Garak’s embrace, leaning into the contact, as the aftermath of the past four days once again caught up with him. He closed his eyes, wanting to focus on only this; this offer of comfort. He wrapped his around Garak’s body and they held each other close, uncaring of how long they held one another. 

He could feel the heat of Garak’s breath, hot against his ear, and the soft, deliberate touch of Garak’s hand against the side of his face, stroking the skin of his cheek. 

My dear Doctor,” he murmured, holding Julian close. “How can I apologize enough?”

Julian shook his head. Garak didn’t need to ask for his forgiveness; it was freely given. 

He pulled himself away from Garak’s embrace and brought his own hand up to Garak’s face, one finger brushing against an eyeridge and producing a sharp intake of breath. 

Their eyes locked. An unspoken tentativeness hung in the air; a painful buffer that was at odds with the mutual longing and unrestrained need that was now so apparent that it was etched into their faces. There was nothing Julian wanted more in this moment and, slowly, without resistance, Julian brought their lips together. 

Their first kiss was tender, and so unlike what Julian had ever imagined. He marvelled at its softness, until it was no longer enough to satiate his need. He deepened the kiss desperately, wanting more, and Garak eagerly followed his lead, groaning softly into their kiss. Garak’s half-embrace around his body tightened, and Julian delighted in the feeling of Garak’s hands covering his back. He pushed himself flush against Garak’s body, and Garak leaned back to accommodate him.

They broke away, breathless, and Julian realized with a start that Garak’s expression was sombre. 

“What’s wrong?” Julian asked nervously, worried that Garak already regretted what they’d done. He took Garak’s hand in his own and felt a twist in his chest.

“If we were still on the Station, I never would have allowed myself to do this,” Garak whispered in confession, bringing his forehead to rest lightly against Julian’s. 

Julian understood the word for what they were. Not a reproach for what they’d just done, but an admission of trust. 

“I doubt that I would’ve ever initiated either.” Julian admitted as he offered Garak a soft, almost shy smile. “I’m glad that we did.”

“As am I,” Garak responded, smiling. He allowed Julian to pull him back against his body, and they found each other again; lips firm against his own. 

Julian drew back a final time, uncertain. “What about Tain?” 

“Let me worry about him,” Garak replied. “Actually,” he said, raising his eyeridges, “I don’t much care about him right now.” Garak moved closer and then stopped himself, frowning. 

“You’re still exhausted,” Garak observed, lightly brushing Julian’s cheek with the back of his hand. “This is too much for you right now after such a difficult week – some of it inexcusably my fault.”

“I’m fine Garak,” Julian protested feebly, “I feel much better now after some sleep and food.” 

Garak smiled teasingly. “I seem to remember you restricting me to my bed in order to rest despite my assertions that I was completely fine.”

“Hm, well, humans have a saying about doctors making the worst patients. We rarely follow our own advice.” 

“Ah, what a flagrant double standard! I’m afraid I’ll have to remain with you then to ensure that you stay in bed.” 

Julian chuckled and then yawned. “Well, I wouldn’t mind a few more hours of sleep.”

“Then it’s decided,” Garak said with a flourish as he settled himself at the foot of Julian’s bunk. 

“You’ll stay?”

“Nothing could get me to leave,” Garak replied with utter sincerity. “Rest well, Julian.” 

And so Julian slept, but only for a short time because it was not even an hour later when he heard the door to their barrack’s open. He barely stirred at the sound until he felt Garak lift himself from his side with a cry of alarm. 

Julian’s eyes snapped open and they immediately widened at what he saw: two Cardassians had come and they were holding up a prone Tain between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Throws confetti* Yay, they're together. Finally. 
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who has sent comments and/or provided kudos since I've started. Your encouragement is appreciated and makes me smile, so thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

Garak had already relieved the two Cardassians of their burden and was busy lowering Tain onto his bunk by the time Julian had the presence of mind to join him. Encumbered as he was by the heavy fog that came from interrupted sleep, Julian gave his head a quick shake in an attempt to alleviate his grogginess and take control of the situation. He gently brushed Garak aside and immediately began examining Tain. 

What he could surmise through only a basic physical examination wouldn’t be considered encouraging by any doctor, especially one without any medical supplies or equipment. Tain was deeply unconscious, his breathing was harsh and laboured, and his pulse was weak, although at least it was steady. It was likely that he’d been overcome by a combination of weakness and exhaustion; symptoms which had been growing worse and worse each day and had eventually become too significant a strain on Tain’s already ailing heart. 

To Julian, this really wasn’t a surprise at all. The signs of Tain’s illness had always been there, but the obvious problem had been that Tain’s mental capabilities had never declined even as his physical body was failing him. Tain’s words still cut just as sharp and as capably that it was easy to forget how fragile his condition really was. Adding to that, Julian had been gone for over four days, which was more than enough time for Tain’s condition to worsen to this point. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Garak demanded as he rose to his feet. “How did this happen?” 

The question was not directed towards Julian but to the two Cardassians who had carried Tain to the barracks. The pair cut imposing figures. In a previous life, before the prison camp, they looked like they’d been soldiers themselves, and their greater height and muscular builds seemed to support that assumption. They bristled at Garak’s aggressive tone as Julian watched on silently, worried that Garak had picked a fight he was outmatched for. 

The bulkier of the two Cardassians narrowed his eyes at Garak in clear warning. “He collapsed,” he grunted, and his taller companion nodded in silent agreement. The Cardassian who had spoken only grew bolder and drew himself up taller when Garak scoffed. “He should not have been away from his barracks; it was obvious to all of us that he was ill.”

“Oh, was it?” Garak responded sarcastically. “Then you wouldn’t mind explaining to me what exactly he was doing in the compound seeing how you knew better, Tevak?”

“It was not our place to push the matter,” Tevak said matter-of-factly. “Raising the issue was your responsibility as his established subordinate.” He looked at Garak in distaste and pointed at Julian. “Except I haven’t seen you by his side lately – instead you’ve prioritized this human over your own people. If anyone is at fault, it’s you.” 

Tevak let the accusation hang in the air, and Garak took a step to the side to obscure Julian from Tevak’s line of sight. The tension in the room thickened as the two men considered one another.

Garak’s whispered reply was soft and deadly. “When did you get so comfortable slinging insults to those above your station, Tevak? Such a bold statement from a low-ranking military officer who never even saw active service.”

Tevak looked to his companion and laughed. “In what world does a tailor occupy a higher social rung than a loyal son of Cardassia?” he asked, sneering at Garak. “Tain said your only use was for menial work.”

_Stop this Garak_ , Julian thought but, as always, Garak was determined to have his parting shot. 

“Ah, well it’s good to see that you’re a good deal more courageous now than you’ve ever been. Remind me: was it your mother or your father who had enough political clout to ensure that you were always kept safely sheltered from the frontlines? For all the good it did you, of course, seeing that you were taken prisoner by the Dominion during a routine science expedition.” 

To Julian’s alarm, Tevak took a threatening step forward and Garak responded in kind. This was getting dangerous. Needlessly so. The last thing Julian needed was for Cardassian posturing to come to actual blows.

“Garak,” Julian said tersely, breaking the tense silence. “This isn’t helping: save it for another time. I need you here. With Tain.” 

Using Tain’s name did the trick to defuse the situation; while Garak continued to pin Tevak down with his glare, he held his tongue and backed away by a single step. Tevak relaxed and looked at his silent companion to share a small chuckle. 

“A good decision that human has made for you, Garak,” Tevak said with a bloodless smile. “But since I don’t think we would serve any purpose by staying, we’ll leave Tain to your tender care.” Tevak nodded at the unnamed Cardassian at his side and with a final mocking smirk each they took their leave of the barracks. 

Garak’s stance remained rigid until the door closed behind them, all the fight leaving his body once they were gone. His shoulders slouched and he turned to look at both Julian and Tain, seemingly at a loss as to where he should direct his focus. His eyes eventually settled on Tain and he shook his head. 

“Tevak was right,” Garak muttered as if it were unwelcome truth that he could only come to terms with by saying the words aloud. 

“No, he wasn’t.” Julian replied, almost angrily, getting to his feet and willing Garak’s eyes to meet his own. “This is not your fault, Garak - it was a long time coming. Even if you’d said anything, I doubt that Tain would’ve listened to you anyways. He never did.” 

Garak shook off Julian’s assuring words as mere annoyances. 

“There was nothing that Tevak said that was untrue, I should have intervened far earlier,” he said, adamant. He put his hand to his chin and stared at Tain as if he wasn’t properly seeing him in his agitated state. 

“Do you think that he’ll recover?” Garak asked after a long moment, and when Julian’s wince was enough of an answer he added to his question, “Or speak again?” 

“Maybe.” It wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility, but he didn’t want to give Garak any false hope if he was hoping for a chance to say goodbye. “I’m not even sure if he’ll regain consciousness.” 

Garak nodded, deep in thought. “How much longer will it be?” 

Julian let out a breath of air that he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “It’s hard to say - it could be a couple of hours or it could be another day or two.” He took Garak’s hand gently into his own. “But I’ll wait with you for as long as you want me here.” 

Garak nodded and lapsed again into silence as Julian brushed the pad of his thumb over the top of Garak’s hand, a small gesture that he hoped Garak found soothing. Eventually Julian managed to coax Garak to sit down with him, though Garak kept Tain closely in sight. They sat beside one another without speaking, both of them lost to their own thoughts for the rest of the night. 

 

Tain’s condition deteriorated quickly overnight, to the point where he spent most of the next day unconscious, resurfacing only for brief moments. He was never entirely lucid during those times - his words were garbled and nonsensical; a string of random sentences that had no cohesive meaning. Julian could tell that bothered Garak more than he let on. 

The previous night all but confirmed for Julian that they had no options left; that there was nothing that could be done beyond making sure that Tain was as comfortable and as free from pain as possible before he passed. It was beyond hope now that they’d be rescued in time for it to make any difference. 

Truth be told, Julian was not overly troubled by this, though a part of him felt ashamed for feeling that way. While he wasn’t so arrogant as to think he could decide whether someone deserved to live or not, the fact of the matter was that Tain had brought nothing but misery and suffering to those around him for all his life. It was hard to be upset when so many people had lived in fear and suffered the consequences of Enabran Tain’s terrible cruelty. Too many lives had been ruined. 

No one could have been more acutely aware of Tain’s legacy than Garak; regardless, he’d taken to sitting with Tain at all hours, sitting cross-legged on the bunk directly across Tain and never taking his eyes away from him for a second. Of the two of them, only Julian managed to get some sleep. Every last one of Julian’s attempts to get Garak to eat or sleep for longer than an hour or two were outright dismissed, as if by doing these things Garak thought he was at risk of missing some vital development. 

Julian didn’t have the heart to tell Garak that Tain probably wasn’t going to wake up again. In fact, he didn’t think he would even survive another night. They were just waiting for the inevitable. 

That assumption was quickly proved wrong, and so he was shocked the next morning when he heard Tain give a low groan and then saw him begin to flutter his eyes. Without wasting a second, Garak hurriedly pulled himself free of Julian’s hand to kneel at Tain’s side. 

“Tain?” Garak said softly. “Can you hear me?”

Julian remained sitting, still and silent, giving them enough space for Garak to say whatever he thought needed to be said. He wondered briefly if he should make himself scarce – if this moment was too private for Julian to intrude on – but when he made to leave Garak impatiently waved at him to remain sitting. It was certainly unexpected, but Julian settled back against the wall: a silent observer to the scene playing out in front of him. 

Tain moaned again and shuffled in his bunk as Garak tried a second time to rouse him into consciousness. 

“Tain?” 

“I can’t see,” Tain replied, mumbling. Each word sounded like they took Tain a great effort to say, and his chest rose and fell heavily. His arm twitched and Garak laid a gentle hand on it. 

“It’s me,” Garak said urgently. “It’s Elim.”

Tain turned his head towards Garak and his voice came out in a terrible rasp. 

“Elim?”

“Yes, it’s me. I’m here.”

“No.” Tain shook his head feebly, seemingly coming into greater awareness now. “I have nothing to say to you.” 

“Tain,” Garak urged, “There isn’t much time left-”

“I want you to leave, Elim.” 

“Leave?” Garak repeated and he gave a barking, nervous laugh. “Tain, we don’t-” 

“I know what it is you want me to say. I won’t. Leave.” 

Tain turned his head away from Garak following his cold, firm pronouncement and Garak pulled his hand away from Tain’s arm as if he’d been burned. There was a long moment of silence. Julian couldn’t see Garak’s reaction, he only picked up on the barely perceptible tremor that vanished once Garak straightened his body forcefully. 

Slowly, Garak stood up. He didn’t immediately leave Tain’s side as he’d been told; instead, he kept his eyes fixed on Tain as if he wanted to say something more. Apparently thinking better of it, Garak shook his head, and forced his gaze away from Tain. He strode out of the room without a final look back at either of them. 

Julian was already on his feet, ready to follow Garak – his concern reserved solely for him. 

“Are you there, Doctor?”

Julian exhaled heavily, halting in place as the door to the barracks shut behind Garak. He stared at the empty space where Garak once stood, but he couldn’t just ignore a dying patient. With a sigh, he turned and approached Tain. 

“I’m here.”

Tain managed a weak smile and stared up at him, his eyes unseeing. “I assumed that you would be here to witness that.” 

“Garak wasn’t lying to you, Tain. If you don’t speak to each other now, I can’t promise that you’ll get another opportunity.”

Tain’s eyes squeezed shut - as if by doing so he could conserve all his remaining strength so he could speak clearly. “I’ve said everything that needed to be said to Garak already. I can die knowing that all my affairs are in order.”

Julian tilted his head, immediately suspicious. “If you want me here to listen to your confessions, then I’m sorry to disappoint you but I don’t have any interest in absolving you of your crimes.”

“I don’t want forgiveness.” Tain rasped, his breathing harsh as he suddenly grew angry. “I want answers. Garak chose to disregard his loyalties and place your wellbeing over mine – I want to know why.” 

“Why are you so concerned with Garak and I,” Julian said testily. “You lost all rights to his loyalty when you exiled him.”

Tain snarled and his voice shook from anger and exhaustion. “I took a great risk in giving Garak a second chance after his betrayal: a betrayal I should have had him executed for. And what did it lead to? Our capture and a slow death. Rather than make amends for his failures, Garak has been distracted by you ever since you arrived; more interested in the approval and attention of a man affiliated with a long-time enemy to Cardassia. I’ve never been more ashamed. I should have had him killed when I had the chance.”

Tain’s rant was a terrible thing to listen to, though he could barely speak by the end of it. Julian shifted backwards as if to get away from Tain and his vile words, but he was spared from answering when Tain went quiet, having fallen back into unconsciousness when he was unable to sustain his strength after such a furious exchange. The tension in his face released and his chest settled into an unsteady rhythm that matched his hoarse breathing. 

Julian sat there, absorbing what he’d just heard from Tain. He tried to focus, to think. To figure out what to do next.

What he needed was to see Garak to make sure he was okay. He couldn’t stay another second in this room. 

Luckily, Garak hadn’t gone far; he was waiting by the barrack doors, staring out across the compound, his gaze unfocused until he saw Julian emerge from the barracks. He looked deeply conflicted - just like any concerned friend or relative that Julian would expect to see whenever he was treating a patient who was gravely-ill: desperate for any news they could get while equally apprehensive of what Julian might tell them. 

“What are you doing out here? Is Tain…?” 

“He’s only asleep,” Julian quickly assured him. “I know that didn’t go the way you wanted it to... I had to come see how you were doing before going back in there.” 

“How do you think, Doctor?” Garak snapped, his mouth narrowing with supressed anger. “His only chance at survival was through our rescue, and I took too long in getting that damned message sent. Now, it’s too late and he’s going to die because of it.” 

Stricken, Julian tried to console him. “Garak, you did the best you could.” 

Garak sneered, though his scorn was reserved more for himself than for Julian. “And now I wonder if it was really worth all the effort. That man is a complete monster – I should never have gone back to his side a year ago. It was the greatest mistake of my life.”

Garak’s agitation grew as he started to pace in frustration. Julian reached out to grasp both of Garak’s hands in a partially-successful attempt to ground him: Garak’s fingers remained limp in his hand, but he stopped pacing and some of his anger fell away from his face upon Julian’s touch. 

“What can I do?” Julian asked calmly. “What do you want to do?”  
Garak struggled to give Julian an answer. “If you could just stay with him, Doctor,” Garak said, sounding defeated. “I can’t go back in there, so don’t…don’t let him die alone.” Some of the bitterness crept back into his voice. “I know it’s a better fate than he deserves.”

Julian nodded. “I’ll stay with him, and I’ll come find you once…once it’s over.”

Garak’s fingers tightened and then he let go of Julian’s hand. “Until then.” 

 

Julian was left to watch over Tain’s failing body. Alone. No one joined him, and after the awfulness of four days in total isolation it wasn’t a welcome situation to have found himself in. 

Company did arrive in the form of Martok bringing him his evening meal. He proclaimed his delight that Julian had emerged from isolation relatively unharmed, but he looked so uncomfortable being near death’s slow unfolding – the complete antithesis of a warrior’s death that all Klingons aspired for themselves - that Julian couldn’t bring himself to ask him to stay. 

It was Tain’s sharp exhale that broke Julian from his reverie only an hour later. Tain’s eyes opened slowly, and Julian wondered if he would be as lucid as the last time. 

“Elim?” Tain called out, his voice weak. 

He turned towards Julian and squinted. His eyesight had failed him again. 

“It’s Doctor Bashir,” Julian responded softly. “How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?”

“Where is Elim?” Tain mumbled, ignoring Julian’s question. It was clearly still difficult for him to speak; his face was set in a grimace and his words were interspersed between long breaks. Still, there was an edge of urgency to his plea. “I need to speak with him.”

“He’s not here,” Julian said. “You sent him away, don’t you remember?” 

He wasn’t sure whether he should be happy about that fact. He doubted that Tain would be one to impart any heartfelt last words, but Garak had desperately wanted just this occasion, a final chance to speak with Tain before he passed on. 

Tain let out a breathy laugh, his words dripping with venom even when he could scarcely breathe. 

“How unsurprising,” he said, turning away from Julian to stare up at the ceiling. “Whenever I’ve needed him the most, Garak has always disappointed me. He’s betrayed me; ignored my orders; chosen others over me. He won’t even come to a dying man’s side.”

Julian didn’t care that Tain was dying, that this was quite possibly one of his last moments of coherence; he snapped. 

“How could you possibly say that? After all he’s done for you? He suffered to get that message sent – and he did it for you.” 

Tain’s eyes shut and he let out a long breath. 

“On Cardassia, a son must be unfailingly loyal to his father. Garak was a poor son.”

Julian’s breath hitched in his throat. All at once, everything seemed to fall into place. Garak’s unwavering loyalty to Tain, his absolute willingness to suffer even the cruelest abuses from this man and then to act like he deserved it. It all made a terrible kind of sense. 

His heart ached for Garak and dredged up long-buried feelings of his own: the sense of inadequacy and shame that came from a father’s disappointment. The urge to leave the barracks to get far away from this man became almost overwhelming, but Julian stayed; otherwise, he knew, he would never be able to forgive himself for abandoning someone so close to death. 

Tain never reacted to Julian’s lack of reply – he was too far gone to really understand what was happening, and it wasn’t long after that that he slipped into unconsciousness for the final time. Death came slowly but suddenly: one moment Tain’s chest was rising and falling, and then it wasn’t. One long exhale that wasn’t followed by another breath. 

Julian couldn’t even say how long he sat there in a stupor of stunned disbelief. It was only the actual moment of Tain’s death that prompted him to act. Feeling the full weight of his exhaustion, Julian retrieved one of the folded blankets and draped it over Tain’s body. 

Garak was waiting for him by the barrack doors, and he nodded in tired acceptance as they approached one another, not needing Julian to confirm what had finally happened. They silently returned to the barracks. Once they arrived, Garak pulled away the blanket to look at Tain’s still form for himself. 

“Did he suffer?” Garak asked, his voice hushed and uncertain. 

For a moment, Julian considered telling Garak the truth, but his resolve faded upon seeing a brief glimpse of sorrow intrude on Garak’s otherwise composed expression.

Julian shook his head and the lie easily spilled from his lips. 

“It was painless.”

Garak nodded and managed a tight smile. 

“Thank you, Julian.” Whether he meant to thank Julian for lying or for watching Tain, Julian wasn’t sure. 

“Of course,” Julian said as he edged closer to Garak. He put his hand over Garak’s arm, meaning to lead him to his bunk. “You should sit down – this is quite the shock you’ve just experienced.” 

Garak shook his head, standing rigidly in place. “No, you were right before, this came as no surprise - we both saw this coming, and we can agree that the universe is at least a better place without him in it,” Garak said, though his tone held none of the malice that his words implied. 

Julian looked at Garak sympathetically. He took Garak’s hand again, trying to replicate his past success in consoling him. 

“He was your father, Garak. I don’t blame you for being upset.”

Garak stiffened and he took a half-step backwards, wrenching his hand away from Julian. His voice came out low; holding the promise of danger. 

“And how could _you_ possibly know that, Doctor?”

“Tain told me,” Julian answered in a near whisper, and Garak’s face crumpled. 

Garak looked helplessly at Tain - his father. All pretence of anger disintegrated and his eyes were bright with distress. Slowly, he knelt beside Tain’s body and studiously examined his face as if searching for an answer that had long-eluded him. Julian stood over Garak’s hunched form and tentatively put a light hand on his shoulder. 

“I always suspected,” Garak whispered, speaking so quietly that Julian had to strain to hear him. “But then again, I had honestly thought, after giving him so much, that one day I would hear him finally admit it.” He looked up at Julian with a small, bitter smile. “It seems that I was wrong.” 

Suddenly, Julian understood why Tain had sent Garak away. Why he had refused to even speak with him. Tain’s final, departing act of cruelty was to deprive Garak of the acknowledgement that Garak had so desperately wanted all his life: that Garak was his son. 

“I’m so sorry, Garak.”

Julian didn’t know what else to say, if there was anything else he could say. He gave Garak’s shoulder a brief squeeze that drew no reaction as Garak continued to stare at Tain. Minutes passed, and when Garak stood up again he gathered the ragged blanket that he’d set aside and neatly covered up Tain’s body. His mask of indifference was firmly back in place when he looked back at Julian. 

“The Jem’Hadar will come to take the body away,” Garak noted, his voice impassive and perfectly even. “We should leave to avoid any difficulties.”

Julian didn’t protest and they went back out into the compound, though Garak refused to stray far from the barracks while they waited, not until he saw Tain’s body taken away with his own eyes. They returned to the barracks nearly three hours later, both of them needing sleep though neither of them could manage it.

“I’m sorry it happened this way.” 

Julian let the sentence trail off into silence, not quite sure how else to broach the subject, but he knew he had to say something to Garak now, because if he didn’t than Garak would never mention it again and the conversation would quickly become off-limits; never to be discussed.

“And why is that?” Garak replied, his voice dull and lifeless. 

“He wasn’t a good person but he was still your father; someone you’ve known almost all your life – it must have been difficult for you to find out this way.” 

“Find out?” Garak shook his head. “I told you, Doctor, I always knew, and I’m sure the revelation of my parentage doesn’t truly shock you either. I’m honestly surprised that no one else ever suspected: Tain and I had so much in common.”

“That’s- That’s not what I meant,” Julian stammered. 

“Isn’t it? I was raised to be Tain’s successor – I had a natural talent for the work the Order required of me and a constant craving for his approval. I would have done very well for myself as Tain’s replacement.” 

“This isn’t one of your repetitive epics, Garak. You’re not destined to follow in his footsteps if you don’t want to – you can be better than that.” 

“Your naivety is as striking as ever, Doctor,” Garak said derisively. “You’ve only ever known me as the plain and simple tailor. You've never seen my true character.”

This was turning out to be a persistent refrain from Garak, and Julian shook his head. “I don’t know what you were like in the Order, Garak, I only know who you are now. And learning that Tain was your father doesn’t change how I feel about you.” 

Garak sighed, almost sadly. “I don’t think you understand what a detriment that is for you.” Julian fell silent, too exhausted to challenge him, and Garak looked over at him with a frown. 

“I’ve been neglecting you.”

“I’m fine,” Julian said, though he didn’t couldn’t muster up the energy to say so confidently. 

Garak let out a quiet noise of disbelief. “My dear, between the two of us you make a much poorer liar so you shouldn’t bother trying to conceal the truth from me. You had barely recovered from your own dreadful experience before you were forced to deal with another.”

“In that case, I’ve felt better,” Julian admitted, leaning heavily against Garak who passively accepted the contact, “but I can manage.” He sighed as Garak hesitantly wrapped an arm around his slender frame. “I just want all of this to be over.”

“As do I,” Garak said. “And however many messages I need to send before we are rescued, I’ll do it. I have no intention of staying here forever.” 

“Doctor!” 

Julian and Garak snapped their heads towards the unexpected interruption as Martok burst into the barracks. He came to an abrupt stop in front of them, winded after such a rare spurt of exertion. Julian stood up and approached him with concern; he’d never seen Martok so worked up before. 

“Martok?” 

“Doctor, Garak, you both must come at once,” Martok insisted, panting heavily. “There are new arrivals - Starfleet officers. The Jem’Hadar have brought them into the compound just now.” 

Julian looked back at Garak and they exchanged equally stunned looks. Neither of them had to voice the hope that had resurfaced in their minds: their message had worked. 

Someone had come to rescue them. 

Ignoring his fatigue, Julian dashed into the compound to investigate, scanning frantically through the crowd of prisoners as he quickly walked through the cavernous room. He careened to a stop when his eyes settled on Jadzia, which gave Garak the chance to catch up with him. She looked uncharacteristically worried as she walked through the compound – she must have been searching for him too – and she occasionally turned to Worf as if hoping to hear that he was having better luck. 

A flood of happiness filled his chest at the sight of his friend and he couldn’t stop himself from calling out excitedly. He broke away from Garak in his haste, sprinting across the compound. 

“Jadzia!” 

Jadzia and Worf turned towards him – Jadzia spotting him first. A wide grin filled her face and she cried his name in delight the instant she saw him. 

He slowed to a jog and eagerly embraced his friend, nearly lifting her off her feet in his exuberance. If her relieved laughter was any indication, she was just as thrilled to see him too, and she gripped him back tightly. He moved to release her, but she only pulled him back again for another long hug.

“I was so worried about you,” she murmured into his chest. “It took us so long to find this place that I kept thinking that we were too late.” 

“I’m absolutely fine,” Julian said and they parted with warm smiles. “I’m so glad to see you again, you’ve no idea.” 

He turned towards Worf for the first time. “It’s good to see you too, Worf.”

Worf nodded, ever the solemn Klingon warrior. “As I am glad to see that you are unharmed, Doctor.” 

Jadzia put a hand on his shoulder to draw his attention back to her. 

“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I have so many questions for you, Julian! How long have you been imprisoned here? Are there any other Federation prisoners being held here?” She looked around and lowered her voice to a whisper. “And how did you of all people manage to get that message sent?”

Julian leaned in closely to give his whispered reply. “I’m the only prisoner from Starfleet, and I’ve been here for nearly a month, I think, ever since that burn treatment conference on Meezan Four. But it wasn’t me who sent that message.”

He heard footsteps directly behind him and smiled, knowing that Garak had finally reached them. Jadzia looked over his shoulder and gaped, looking back at Julian disbelievingly. 

“Garak?!” 

Garak stood a short distance away with a faint smile on his face. He seemed completely put together - it was almost remarkable; no one would’ve ever guessed that he’d barely slept over over the last few days. 

“Lieutenant Dax, how good to see you again after so long. Though, to be perfectly honest, this isn’t quite how I thought our next meeting would go.” He approached the trio of Starfleet officers, reserving an inquisitive look for Worf who looked back at him suspiciously. “Perhaps we should take you to our barracks to continue this discussion in private?” 

Jadzia nodded, and her shocked expression slowly faded away.

“By all means,” she said, “lead the way.” 

 

Martok was waiting for them in the barracks. He gave an excited shout and exchanged warm greetings with Jadzia and Worf as the five of them gathered together in the small, dimly-lit room. A nervous energy filled the air as they all regarded one another. 

“So then, a Klingon in Starfleet?” Garak stated, as he gave Worf a curious once-over. “What an odd thing.”

Worf growled in response, and Julian quickly intervened before Garak’s colourful personality led to a more heated argument. Jadzia snickered at his obvious exasperation. 

“I think what’s more important right now is for you to tell us how exactly the two of you ended up here,” Julian said to Jadzia and Worf. “Were you captured?” 

Worf nodded gravely. “In a matter of speaking. We became aware of your message only a few days ago. Major Kira was able to decode the message but its contents meant we had to act carefully. While it meant delaying your rescue, we were able to apprehend the Changeling that was impersonating Doctor Bashir.”

“Just as we had planned,” Garak interjected, and Worf shot him another annoyed look before carrying on. 

“It was decided that Jadzia and I would arrive separately in a runabout to seek out your location. A risk; but one the Captain felt was necessary to retrieve Doctor Bashir. We would make contact with you first, and the crew would follow with the Defiant in three day’s time to our last known location if we’ve not yet successfully escaped. We assumed since you had the technology to send the message that the same technology could be used to beam us back aboard the runabout.” 

Julian glanced over at Garak, who nodded upon hearing Worf’s theory. 

“It’s certainly possible,” Garak concurred. 

“However,” Worf said, “we do not know how often the Changeling was in communication with the Founders. Depending on the frequency of their communications, even a few days without contact could be construed as suspicious. Since finding you proved to be more difficult than expected, I recommend that we move as quickly as possible to make our escape.” 

“A sound plan,” Martok said from his spot beside Worf. 

Jadzia piped up next as she glared at Worf. “What Worf is also conveniently forgetting to mention is that we have another problem on our hands. Those Jem’Hadar guards seemed awfully interested in getting him into that combat ring when they took us prisoner.”

Worf sighed in frustration. “Jadzia, I will not back away from a direct challenge. If the Jem’Hadar seek me out for a fight then I will fight.” 

“No self-respecting Klingon would do otherwise,” Martok echoed. 

Jadzia glared at the two of them and poked Worf hard in the chest. “Absolutely not, you’re not going to step a foot in that ring just so you can uphold your Klingon honour. Not if I can help it.”

Garak threw a confused look at Julian over Worf and Jadzia’s bickering. “They’re dating,” Julian mouthed at him and Garak made a small noise in understanding and he bravely raised his voice to interrupt. 

“Regardless of whether or not Mister Worf will be partaking in hand-to-hand combat so he can single-handedly defeat every last Jem’Hadar in this prison, I think that right now we should focus on getting ourselves out of here.”

“Agreed,” Jadzia said, and she rounded on Garak. “Now, how exactly did you send that message?”

Garak smirked and Martok automatically went to take his former position as lookout by the barrack doors. Ever the performer, Garak walked over to his bunk to retrieve the transmitter device still hidden underneath his mattress. He moved the bunk to its side and easily popped open the wall panels to reveal the crawlspace with a flourish. 

“Impressive,” Worf noted as Jadzia rushed over to take a better look. 

“I’ll say,” she said. She paused just as she was about to pull herself into the crawlspace, before turning towards Garak almost contritely. “If you don’t mind Garak, I think that I can take over from here.” 

“By all means,” Garak said with a conceding nod. He didn’t look outwardly appreciative, but Julian knew that not having to return into the dark recesses of the crawlspace must have come as an immense relief. 

Garak held up the transmitter that he had retrieved from underneath his mattress and passed it to Jadzia. “I used this transmitter to connect directly to the systems circuitry. As you suggested, you’ll only need to change the coordinates and the message to contact the runabout. You’ll find the actual circuit board to be quite archaic, but I expect that you’re bright enough to figure it out.”

“It won’t be a problem,” Jadzia assured him, and with that said she disappeared into the crawlspace. Garak put the wall panels back in place and he returned to Julian’s side, looking nearly as dazed by all that had happened as Julian probably did. 

Worf frowned as he looked over at Julian. 

“What is it the rest of us do in the meantime?”

“I suggest you get comfortable, Mister Worf,” Julian said as he sat himself down. “Because this is pretty much it.”

 

“I’m almost finished,” Jadzia told them all the next day over a quick breakfast. 

Julian and Garak had quickly fallen into a deep sleep soon after Jadzia and Worf had arrived, and were now eager for news. To their delight, Jadzia had managed to make good progress overnight, easier to accomplish now as the two Romulans had chosen to make use of other barracks during the whole ordeal of Tain’s passing. Worf and Jadzia had happily taken their bunks for themselves after working through most of the night. 

“Although,” she continued, “you weren’t kidding about those circuits, Garak; it’s a real nightmare in there - I still feel like I don’t have a firm grasp on how best to reconfigure them. And there’s barely enough room to move around in there; it’s been terrible on my back.” 

“Yes, it was certainly an inconvenience,” Garak replied, and only Julian and Martok recognized it for the understatement that it was. “How much longer will you need?”

“Not long – another day or so? I’m mostly just complaining for the sake of it.” She wolfed down the last of her ration bar and rubbed her hands in front of her. “I might as well get back to it. We are on a deadline after all.” Worf softly squeezed her shoulder and quietly wished her luck before she returned back into the crawlspace. 

Unable to stop himself from grinning, Julian leaned back against the wall after finishing his meal. 

“We’re really getting out of here.” 

While they certainly weren’t out of the woods yet, it seemed that Garak’s gamble had paid off: they were actually going to get out of here – after a long, hard month of incarceration their rescue was finally in sight. Still, a part of all this felt unreal to Julian. He could only imagine what Garak and Martok were going through right now considering how long they’d both been stuck here. 

“I think you’re being a bit premature with your celebration, my dear,” Garak said.

“Hardly,” Julian said, beaming. He hadn’t felt so good in weeks. He directed his smile at Garak. “Even you, my cynical Cardassian friend, has to admit that we finally have a reason to be optimistic.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” Garak replied, but his reply was undercut by the barest traces of amusement on his face. 

“Garak is right,” Worf said, speaking up. “We cannot afford to be overly confident at this stage. We must remain vigilant.”

Garak sighed. “I do hate finding common ground with Klingon pessimism, but I’ll find a reason to be optimistic about our chances once we transport onto that runabout.” 

“All of you be quiet,” Martok suddenly cut in and a heavy silence immediately blanketed the room. “The Jem’Hadar are coming.” He wheeled around to level a serious look at them. “And Itak’ika is with them.” 

There wasn’t enough time for Jadzia to get out, and so Julian quickly snapped the wall panels back into place, trusting that Jadzia would understand what was happening. He moved the bunk back in place and twisted back around in his seat and waited, expelling a deep breath to force himself into relaxing. Within a minute, the door to the barracks opened and Itak’ika strode in with four other Jem’Hadar guards. 

Itak’ika looked them over, his cold eyes surveying the room. Julian tensed as Itak’ika’s frown deepened in displeasure. 

“Where is the female Starfleet officer?” he asked. 

Garak looked at Julian and Worf, feigning confusion over Itak’ika’s question. “She’s not here,” Garak answered. “I imagine that she decided to stay in someone else’s barracks. Were you expecting to find her here?” 

Itak’ika lurched forward until he was standing over Garak, and then grabbed him by the arm to pull him close. Julian felt a twinge of fear, having seen Itak’ika violently strike Garak before. 

“My guards said that they saw her enter these barracks yesterday evening,” he spat, “and she hasn’t been seen since.”

“It seems that your guards were mistaken,” Garak replied coolly. “Because, obviously, she isn’t here.”

“Liar.” Itak’ika’s face twisted in anger and he shook Garak by the arm. “I know that she was here.”

Garak was unmoved by Itak’ika’s fury, and he let his indifference show on his face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Itak’ika growled and moved his hand back as if to strike Garak. Julian reacted without thinking, forcing himself between Itak’ika and Garak to break the Jem’Hadar’s stranglehold on Garak. Itak’ika’s hand hung in the air and he looked at Julian in mild shock.

“We already told you that she’s not here,” Julian said roughly, drawing himself up taller so he was eye-to-eye with Itak’ika. “You’ll have to go look for her somewhere else.” 

Itak’ika regarded him silently for a moment. “You just returned from Isolation, and you dare to lay a hand on me,” he said. “Obviously you need to be taught more of a lesson.” He grabbed Julian by the shoulder and threw him bodily to two of the guards. “We’ll bring him to the combat ring.” 

This sparked a furious reaction from Worf. “No, I will be the one who goes,” Worf said, advancing on Itak’ika. “You must be looking for a real challenge that only a Klingon can provide.” 

Itak’ika looked at him, unimpressed. “I have fought a Klingon before,” he said, his eyes wandering over to rest on Martok, who growled. “You’ll be a useful training exercise for my men, but they can wait another day.” 

“A human would not last long in the combat ring,” Worf argued. “It would serve no purpose to bring Doctor Bashir.”

“Bring them both,” Itak’ika said tiredly to his guards, and the remaining two pointed their phasers at Julian and Worf. “And then search the room.” He spoke directly to Martok and Garak next: Martok looked furious while Garak wore no obvious reaction- he wouldn’t even look at Julian. “If either of you try and interfere, we’ll kill them. You will not follow.” 

Itak’ika turned on his heels, and the Jem’Hadar guards motioned their phasers at Worf and Julian for them to follow. 

It wasn’t a far walk to the combat ring and as Julian trudged forward he felt dread pool in his stomach. Garak must be furious with him. This was the second time that he’d drawn Itak’ika’s attention and ended up in danger because of it. Isolation had been terrible; but this was a far worse alternative.

Worf had been right: he wouldn’t be much of a challenge for a Jem’Hadar. He’d suspected that his utter lack of physical strength compared to other species was what had saved him from the combat ring before. True, he did have some self-defence training and his genetic enhancements gave him an added edge, but it wouldn’t be enough to save him. The Jem’Hadar were resilient fighters, created by the Founders to fight through discomfort and pain, no matter how severe. Even if Julian managed to hold off one of them - another would take its place. Itak’ika would have no intention of letting him survive this. 

They arrived at the combat ring and Worf and Julian were quickly hustled to line up around the edge of the ring, across from the horde of Jem’Hadar guards who were waiting for them. Julian’s mind flashed to an image of how the Romulan had looked in the aftermath of the combat ring, and he shuddered. 

“Bravery, Doctor,” Worf muttered. Julian straightened his bank and gave him a firm nod. They awaited their fate in silence. 

“The Klingon first.” Itak’ika decided with further preamble, joining his men. “And whoever defeats him will fight the human as their reward.” 

Worf clapped Julian on the shoulder and briskly walked into the ring on his own accord, adopting a practiced fighting stance. He glowered at the unlucky Jem’Hadar who was to fight him first. 

“Begin,” Itak’ika announced, and Worf lurched forward with a formidable shout. 

Worf was an excellent fighter, and it was easy to see why he’d been so highly-regarded as Chief of Security on the Enterprise and as a Klingon warrior in his own right. But even Worf couldn’t keep up such a gruelling pace forever and he was quickly tiring against a nearly endless wave of Jem’Hadar opponents. All Julian could do was watch helplessly as Worf fended off each new attacker and, when he wasn’t successful, painfully pull himself to his feet and press the illuminated pillar so he could keep the match going – saving Julian from the brutality of the ring. 

It was after Worf had defeated three Jem’Hadar soldiers without any respite that Julian recognized that Worf’s next match was likely to be his last. As Worf grew more tired, he moved slower, which made him more vulnerable to the Jem’Hadar’s attacks. His exhaustion and injuries were starting to add up: he simply couldn’t fight as well. 

Worf and his newest challenger had barely begun fighting when a nasty blow to the chest sent Worf crashing to the ground. He struggled to get up, and Julian took a step forward to enter the ring, unwilling to just watch any longer. 

“Don’t-,“ Worf yelled, throwing up one hand at Julian as he pressed his other hand protectively over his ribs. “Doctor, if you come in here this match will be forfeit.” 

With a groan, Worf shakily got to his feet and pressed down on the pillar to signal that he wasn’t out of the fight yet. He slowly turned around and his opponent sized him up, unimpressed as Worf staggered forwards. Worf was swiftly knocked backwards again, and he fell against the border of the ring where Julian stood. 

This time he didn’t get back up. 

Defiantly, Julian stepped into the ring in front of Worf, blocking the Jem’Hadar’s path. The Jem’Hadar halted in place and looked back at Itak’ika, confused and waiting for direction.

“Get away from the Klingon,” Itak’ika ordered. Julian ignored him and stood his ground.

“I told you to stay away.” Itak’ika said, his voice rising in anger as he stalked into the combat ring. He bodily pushed Julian away from Worf and Julian landed on his back with a pained hiss. He quickly sat back up, ignoring the pain the movement caused him.

To see Itak’ika’s phaser pointed directly at him.

He froze, his stomach sinking, and Itak’ika seemed to relish at his reaction. 

“The Klingon fought admirably,” Itak’ika said, taking a few steps closer to Julian and pushing him down to the ground with his foot until all Julian could see in his field of vision was the phaser, “but this will be much easier.” 

Then everything around him disappeared. 

 

He materialized on the floor of the runabout with a gasp, looking up at the ceiling in wonder. 

Jadzia had done it. 

He was alive. 

Julian pulled himself to his knees and looked around to get his bearings. All of them had been safely beamed aboard: Worf lay beside him and Martok and Jadzia stood up dizzily near the front of the runabout. Garak was already at the main control panel, busy setting in their course at maximum warp. As soon as he had done so he sprang out of his chair and Jadzia moved to replace him at the control panel. 

“Are you injured?” Garak asked urgently, getting down on the floor beside him and looking him over for any obvious injuries. 

“I’m fine,” Julian said. He looked up at Garak, stunned. “I didn’t even have to defend myself – Worf bore the brunt of it. I was transported out of there before I even had to fight.” 

Satisfied that Julian was telling the truth, Garak heaved a sigh and rested his forehead against Julian’s in abject relief. Julian closed his eyes, allowing himself a brief moment to find comfort in their closeness.

But they didn’t have time for this. 

“I need to help Worf,” Julian whispered, reluctantly pulling away from Garak. “And Jadzia will need you back at the conn.” 

Garak pulled away and nodded, begrudgingly. He returned to the conn and Julian ran to the back of the runabout to grab an emergency medical kit. Reunited with the tools of his trade once again, he held the familiar weight of the tricorder firmly in his hand. He scanned Worf and, to his relief, found no serious injuries. 

“You’re going to be okay.” Julian told him. “But you do have some bruising and a small fracture that I need to treat. Martok and I are going to take you to the back of the runabout so you can rest while I take a closer look at you.” 

Julian nodded at Martok and the two of them hauled Worf up, who grunted in pain when the movement jostled his injuries. They each took an arm and began to walk slowly to the back of the runabout. 

Garak turned around in his seat, and Julian briefly caught his gaze. Something passed unspoken between them. They’d spent a month trapped in that prison together and experienced so much fear, sadness, hopelessness; but they’d also found each other - a tentative beginning that had been born from a mutual longing.

All their efforts had paid off; they were going home. Together. Julian smiled. 

Garak nodded and turned back to face the control panel, headed for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the wait for this chapter was worth it, though there's only one more left! I almost can't believe it. As my first chaptered fic, this has been a pretty exciting ride for me :)
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who has left a kudos or comments! You're all wonderful.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apologies right off the bat for the long wait between updates. A shoulder injury meant I couldn't do much writing for a couple weeks (I'm mostly all better now!). No beta, so any mistakes are my own. 
> 
> I hope that this last chapter was worth the wait. Enjoy! 
> 
> Warning that there is some sexual content in this chapter. So fair warning if that's not for you.

Garak and Julian didn’t have the chance to speak privately again during their return trip to Deep Space 9. They simply weren’t afforded either the time or the opportunity, absorbed as they were by their respective tasks. Garak was glued to the conn, on a tense lookout with Jadzia for any pursuing Jem’Hadar as they made their getaway, whereas Julian remained in the runabout’s makeshift infirmary, preferring to be close at hand while he monitored Worf’s injuries. 

His concern for Worf was what kept Julian in the back of the runabout when he would have preferred to be upfront with Garak. To his initial relief, Worf’s injuries weren’t severe enough to require a hypospray, but that turned out to be a double-edged sword. A hypospray would’ve easily knocked Worf out for the rest of the trip; instead, Worf had to put up with the pain of his minor injuries and of sore, bruised muscles that must have bordered on outright uncomfortable, even with a hefty dose of painkillers, though he bore the pain stoically as any Klingon would. 

Thankfully, Martok had the perfect distraction lined up with a slightly self-serving request that Worf tell them all about his exploits in the combat ring. To be told in the Klingon fashion of story-telling. The more verbose and focused on his fighting skill, the better. 

It was a task that Worf was perfectly suited for. 

Worf’s face was serious, almost regal, while he spoke; a wasted effort since Julian could quite clearly see that Worf was taking great pleasure in the generous heapings of praise he received from Martok. Julian couldn’t begrudge him the attention. Worf fully deserved every accolade - he had fought bravely and much of it for Julian’s sake - but between the three of them cramped together in the back of the runabout Julian was quickly relegated to a bit player, only able to offer the occasional remark to Worf’s already animated account of his fight against the Jem’Hadar. 

Unlike Julian, who had witnessed the fight firsthand, Martok was enthralled by every word and he had an endless amount of questions, wanting to be absolutely sure that Worf explained every last detail: exactly how many Jem’Hadar had Worf defeated; how long each round had lasted; how much of a challenge his Jem’Hadar opponents had posed. And when there was no new information that Martok could possibly pry away from Worf, the two Klingons had taken to chanting traditional Klingon war songs: the kind that never seemed to run out of new verses about daring Klingon feats of war and battle. 

Trapped in the back of the runabout with two exuberant Klingons, Julian snuck frequent and furtive looks at the runabout’s viewscreen every few minutes, hoping to see the wormhole come into view. He was disappointed each time. As their journey home dragged on, it didn’t take long before Julian lost track of time entirely. Despite the never-ending Klingon battle songs, he began to doze, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. 

Martok shook him awake some time later. Julian jolted upright with a groan, his neck aching as he leaned forward to peer at the viewscreen. They hadn’t yet arrived, but the reason for his interrupted sleep quickly became apparent. 

“Julian,” he heard Jadzia call as he blinked drowsily, “you’ll want to come up here to see this. We’re almost there.” 

He was suddenly wide awake, his weariness temporarily forgotten, and Julian excused himself and rushed to the front of the runabout. Consumed by excitement, he positioned himself between Garak and Jadzia’s chairs just as the runabout entered the wormhole, their final and long-awaited assurance that they were safe from the Jem’Hadar. 

A blur of colour sped by as the runabout travelled through the wormhole. Though in reality it was only a few minutes, Julian was so impatient to see the Station again that it felt like the runabout was moving at a snail’s pace. He rested his left arm over the top of Garak’s seat for balance as he rocked back on the heels of his feet. 

And then there it was. Home. 

Julian couldn’t tear his eyes away from the viewscreen as the Station grew larger. There had been times, more than a few, that he’d doubted that he would ever escape from that prison camp, that he would ever see the Station again. Only a few hours ago Itak’ika had him pinned down in the combat ring and he’d been sure that he was about to die. His homecoming had an unforeseen but understandably calming effect on him: tense muscles loosened and he heaved a deep breath of relief. He felt suffused by warmth in the way he did whenever he felt the sun against his skin after a long period in deep space. The nightmare of the past month was well and truly behind him. 

“We’re back,” Julian whispered to Garak, awed. His lips drew back into a wide smile. 

Jadzia was busy making preparations to dock as they drew closer to the Station; her fingers a flurry over the control panel. She slowed the runabout upon their approach and opened a line to contact the Station. 

“This is Lieutenant Dax, seeking permission to dock.”

Kira’s voice replied over the comm, formal and businesslike. “Permission granted for docking at docking bay twelve.” There was a pause of dead air as the line remained open, and the tone of Kira’s voice shifted to allow a shred of nervousness into her next question. “You’re all back, okay?”

“Hello Major,” Julian chimed in, unable to help himself. “We’re all here, safe and sound; though Worf will need medical attention as a precaution. I’ll be requesting a medical transport for him in a few moments.”

Kira’s sudden outburst of laughter sounded equal parts relieved and delighted. She quickly composed herself, but the satisfaction in her voice remained intact.

“It’s good to hear your voice again, Doctor, but it’ll be ever better to see you in person. We’ll be waiting for you at the docking bay.” 

“We’ll see you there,” Jadzia said. She cut communications with Kira and expertly maneuvered the runabout towards their designated docking bay. 

“Maybe we should have given her more of a warning,” Jadzia said, nodding her head at Garak. “Kira’s definitely going to be surprised to see you once we come aboard.”

Surprised and, in all likelihood, not the slightest bit pleased, if Julian had to guess.

“Lieutenant, I’m sure my return will be the topic of Station gossip for months,” Garak replied, his words denoting a resigned sort of acceptance. He looked worn-out just from considering the possibility.

In fact, now that Julian was paying attention, Garak didn’t seem outwardly pleased to have returned to the Station at all; though, not in an overt way. While Garak’s face was almost expressionless, his eyes remained fixated on the control panel in front of him and his spine had noticeably stiffened. He hadn’t said a single word that would suggest he was glad to be back. 

It was not the demeanour one would expect from a man only just rescued from a year-long imprisonment. But then again, the stir that Garak’s reappearance on the Station was bound to create was inevitable, which meant that Garak was going to find himself at the forefront of everyone’s attention very, very soon. He would be scrutinized by most everyone; whispered about. Probably for months. 

Julian stilled; he felt a spike of guilt deep in his stomach. He hadn’t even spared a thought as to how Garak might react once they’d returned to the Station. When they’d been trapped in the Dominion prison camp Julian had been too focused on surviving from one day to the next; imagining the future had only gone so far as their escape. The only time Julian remembered Garak so much as mentioning his plans beyond imprisonment had been when he’d arranged to return to Cardassia with Tain. A return that was most certainly closed to Garak now. 

Garak’s current plans were a complete mystery to Julian, and that had him worried. Maybe assuming that Garak would remain on Deep Space 9 was no longer such a forgone conclusion, especially if Garak wasn’t prepared to deal with the fallout triggered by his apparent resurrection. Julian was suddenly unsure that their blossoming relationship would be enough to convince Garak otherwise. The uncertainty begged a conversation and demanded reassurances, but Julian didn’t dare try and raise the topic or comfort Garak now, knowing that Garak would simply detest it if Julian brought any outside attention to his unease. 

So even as worry and doubt raged in his mind, Julian remained silent. 

“I’ll let Worf know that we’re going to be setting him up from transport,” Julian said softly when Jadzia neared their docking station. He placed a fleeting hand on Garak’s upper arm, providing the basest level of comfort that he could get away with. 

Julian could’ve used a little comfort himself; he now had the unenviable task of explaining to Worf that he was going to be medically transported directly to the Infirmary and, as expected, that discussion did not go well. Worf made it very clear that he thought a medical transport was unnecessary and overly cautious, although his exact wording was quite a bit harsher than that, and Julian could hear Jadzia - the traitor - laughing at his plight. Worf held onto his opinion for as long as he remained lying down; when he attempted to sit up on his own, it proved painful enough that he was forced to concede with Julian’s original plan. Still, he was only fully placated when Martok volunteered to be transported to the Infirmary along with him. A few moments later, the two Klingons were beamed off the runabout.

Julian felt the slight jar that indicated the runabout was safely docked. His patients taken care of and eager to set his feet onboard the Station again, he was the first to disembark when the docking bay door wheeled open.

Kira was already waiting for them, just as she had promised, and Odo had joined her to fill out their small welcoming party. She clapped her hands in front of her as Julian came into sight, visibly elated. Odo appeared unmoved, at least until the barest trace of a smile appeared on his face to hint at his own happiness at seeing Julian again. 

“Julian,” Kira said warmly. “Welcome back. I’m sorry it’s just Odo and I right now, but I’ve only just told Miles you’ve arrived. I’m sure you’ll be seeing him sometime tonight.” 

“No doubt so he can get me to Quark’s as quickly as possible,” Julian said, intending his reply to be taken as a joke. He keenly felt another wave of exhaustion setting in, the kind that seems to hit hardest at the end of a very long journey. He didn’t know if he could manage even another hour on his feet.

“The Captain already ordered him to give you the night off,” Kira said, with a twinkle in her eye to show that she knew Julian was in no condition for celebrating tonight. Her smile suddenly fell away, close to a scowl. “I’m sure the Captain would be here himself if he could, but Dukat’s onboard. They’re currently having…words.” 

“Well, if you’re speaking to him later you should inform the Captain that Julian’s not the only one we brought back with us,” Jadzia said as she stepped into the hallway. Kira’s head tilted in confusion and even Odo looked at Jadzia inquisitively, but their confusion was quickly replaced with shock as Garak emerged right behind her. 

“Garak,” Odo said, the name inadvertently falling from his lips in a gasp. His normally pale complexion was devoid of any colour, his mouth was slightly ajar; he looked at Garak as if he was unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Kira shot Odo a concerned look before she squared her shoulders to direct the full-force of her silent fury at Garak, seeing him as the sole source of blame for Odo’s distressed reaction. 

“Constable,” Garak greeted smoothly with a small, inscrutable smile. “It’s been far too long. Although your reaction is one that I’m certain to get tired of soon enough; I find Major Kira’s open dissatisfaction to be much more refreshing.” 

“If you think that we’re going to just welcome you back with open arms-” Kira seethed, laying a protective hand on Odo’s arm. Odo didn’t even flinch, still constrained by his shock. 

“Major,” Garak interrupted, “I completely understand your disappointment over the potential prospect of a permanent Cardassian inhabitant on this Station once again – but I’m sure that Doctor Bashir and Lieutenant Dax would very much like to save this conversation for later so they could return to their quarters sometime this evening.” 

His appeal on Jadzia and Julian’s behalf worked, though Kira’s eyes remained fiery as she angrily held his gaze for a few tense moments. 

“Fine,” Kira spat, turning away from Garak and ignoring his presence entirely. She didn’t take her hand away from Odo’s arm while she addressed Julian and Jadzia. 

“The Captain wants you all to head down to the Infirmary for a quick medical examination; we’ll leave the debriefing to tomorrow morning. Whenever you’re feeling up to it.”

The three of them were herded into the Infirmary without further ceremony and quickly separated for a rapid-fire medical examination with one of the nurses. It was a tedious but necessary exercise given what they’d all been through, though Julian suspected that Martok and Garak were both given the exact same information as he received: minor scuffs and bruises, some weight loss due to the lack of proper nutrition, and with parting orders to ensure he rested over the next few days to aid in his recovery. Other than that, Julian was given a clean bill of health.

And he wasn’t expected to stick around, in fact he was encouraged to go straight to his quarters and turn in for the night. Yet, Julian didn’t leave. He didn’t plan on just abandoning Garak to figure out his accommodations and, for purely selfish reasons, he wanted to find out what exactly Garak planned to do in the coming days. 

He hoped that conversation would give him some indication of where things stood between them. They hadn’t yet explicitly talked about their kiss in the barracks. Tain’s death and Jadzia and Worf’s rescue efforts had prevented that. 

Julian hopped off the examination bench, his eyes set on Garak, who was sitting alone on his examination bench on the far end of the Infirmary. He still looked very much on his guard with his mouth downturned and eyes darting every which way. A year of the internment camp had conditioned Garak to be wary of any potential threats, but he relaxed and nodded in silent greeting when he noticed Julian approaching him. 

“Julian!” 

His name boomed over the medley of noises in the Infirmary, easily capturing the attention of the entire room so that there was a brief, muffled silence as everyone looked up, confused. Julian stopped; he could pick out that familiar Irish lilt anywhere. Suddenly cheered, Julian looked to the entrance of the Infirmary.

And there was Miles, with a cheery and excited grin on his face. Picking Julian out of the crowd, Miles crossed the room, clasped Julian by the shoulder, and brought him in for a tight, half-embrace.

“Good to see you, Miles,” Julian choked out and Miles sheepishly released him with an apologetic pat on the back. 

“I knew Jadzia and Worf would bring you back none the worse for wear,” Miles whooped, his excitement undimmed. One of the nurses glared at him, and Miles lowered his voice to a more reasonable volume. “Although, let me tell you, that Changeling was lucky that Captain Sisko didn’t let me get close to him after we found out what the Dominion had done to you. I would’ve had him talking within the better part of an hour to find out where they were keeping you. No one kidnaps my friend and-”

Miles suddenly paused mid-sentence, his jaw dropping and eyes widening in surprise. Almost comically so. He looked back at Julian and pointed across the room to where Garak was sitting and listening inattentively to one of the nurses. 

“Julian, is that really…?”

“It is,” Julian said quickly. “It’s Garak.”

There was a long pause. Miles stared at Garak unabashedly. Then, as if remembering himself, Miles looked back at Julian, clearly rattled. 

“That’s great news,” Miles ground out; his grin was back but it looked forced, his words sounded unconvinced and hesitant. Julian couldn’t exactly fault him, but at least Miles was making an effort, which Julian could appreciate seeing as Miles had never pretended to like Garak. Ever. But Miles had seen just how devasting the news of Garak’s death had been for Julian, if the past year of mourning hadn’t been enough to go by. He was clearly trying his best. 

“Listen,” Miles said, removing his hand from Julian’s shoulder and deftly changing the subject. “I’m sure you’re exhausted right now and the only thing you want to do is head back to your quarters. We’ll go for drinks later this week; when you’re feeling up to it. I can tell you everything you’ve missed so long as Jadzia hasn’t already spoiled all the interesting stories. And if you want to talk about, uh,” he shot another suspicious look at Garak, “anything else.” 

“Tomorrow,” Julian promised, pleased that he already had something to look forward to and grateful that he had a friend like Miles to rely on. They said their goodbyes and Miles left the Infirmary. 

His impromptu reunion with Miles had momentarily derailed him from seeking out Garak but Julian was still just as determined to speak with him. He looked around the room wildly to see Garak now standing by the entrance of the Infirmary in deep conversation with Odo. Curious, Julian pushed past the influx of medical staff and various well-wishers who had flooded the room. He was so focused and intent on reaching Garak that he jumped when someone’s hand grasped his arm. He twisted his head quickly to the side in a near-panic.

“Martok!” he yelped.

“I wanted to say farewell to you, Doctor,” Martok said as Julian quickly cast a fleeting look towards Garak, worried that this second interruption would give Garak enough time to sneak away. “And express my thanks for all you have done for me before I leave the Station.” 

“You’re leaving so soon?” Julian asked, surprised. They’d only just arrived. 

“Not tonight, no. I’ll be leaving on the first available transport tomorrow morning. It’s been two very long years and I’m eager to return home and see my wife and my son. But first I wanted to say my goodbyes; I’m not sure when we should expect to cross paths again. It may be a long time from now.”

A fair assumption. The Klingons still had an uneasy and tenuous relationship with the Federation: not quite war but it certainly couldn’t be described as peaceful. Tensions were high: any interaction had the potential to escalate into a deadly skirmish.

“Take care of yourself, Martok,” Julian said sincerely. A strong bond of friendship had formed between them, and he wished Martok all the best. “I hope we see each other again soon and under better circumstances.” 

“Thank you, Doctor. You were an excellent comrade and the reason that I was able to escape that prison." He levelled a serious look at Julian. "I will not forget that debt.”

They embraced in farewell and Martok departed for his quarters. 

Julian looked forlornly to where he had last seen Garak. Unsurprisingly, the Cardassian had since vanished from the doorway. Julian quickly surveyed the Infirmary to confirm what he already suspected. 

Garak was gone. 

 

Julian left the Infirmary, hoping that he could escape without attracting any further notice. Luckily, no one stopped him along the way to his quarters; his exhaustion must have been obvious enough to passersby that the most acknowledgement he received were a few respectful nods from crew members who recognized him. He walked heavily through the corridors. His overwhelming need for sleep lent a dreamlike quality to the familiar surroundings of the Station, making his return feel not fully real yet. 

Reaching his quarters was not the triumphant return that he’d envisioned. Instead, Julian shivered once he entered the room as a sensation of wrongness settled on the nape of his neck. While someone had done an admirable job trying to remove any suggestion that the Changeling had once stayed in his quarters, the clues tracing back to its former presence were everywhere. He almost wished that he had asked to stay in one of the guest quarters, at least for this first night.

Sleep could wait, he decided. First, he wanted a shower. 

Which turned out to be a wonderful idea; it was the first proper wash he’d had in weeks and it felt heavenly. Afterwards, he slipped into a pair of his most comfortable sleepwear, scarfed down a warm meal, and settled into his sofa with a PADD. 

He had every intention of only writing a cursory report for the Captain - to save the full debriefing for later - but Julian rarely did things in half-measures. Instead of a light retelling of the past month, he didn’t stop writing until the whole story had spilled out of him, with the exception of a few of the more…personal details. 

By the time he finished, he was running on fumes. He should have already gone to bed to give his worn-out body a much-needed break. The only thing that had been stopping him this whole time was the niggling hope in the back of his mind that Garak would seek him out. The events that unfolded since their first and last kiss had occurred so quickly that Julian didn’t know where things stood anymore, and he had a feeling that Garak was conflicted by the same doubts. 

But it was time to face facts: he’d foolishly forced himself to stay awake for a hopeless cause. Garak wasn’t going to come. If he'd wanted to speak with Julian, he would have waited for him in the Infirmary. There was no way he hadn't seen Julian trying to reach him. No. Better to avoid further disappointment and sleep. 

Julian left his sitting room and collapsed in his bed. Sleep quickly claimed him. 

 

Julian awoke early the next morning, feeling rejuvenated and well-rested. 

He would always resent his genetic enhancements, done to him in secret when he was only a vulnerable child, but he couldn’t deny that they came with definite benefits; his recovery time could amaze even him sometimes. Deciding to take advantage of a good thing, he promptly showered, dressed in his new uniform, and left his quarters for the Infirmary. 

He knew that he wouldn’t be expected to report for duty today. At most, the Captain might ask for a debriefing later in the day. What he was doing was incredibly hypocritical: if it had been any other member of the crew who’d experienced what he had than Julian would never have cleared them for duty; instead, he would’ve ordered plenty of rest and as many counselling sessions as was deemed necessary. Except that didn’t sound at all appealing and – in his opinion - the job of Chief Medical Officer should come with certain perks, one of which included the right to ignore his own advice. 

He walked into the Infirmary. By the looks of it, it was beginnings of a quiet day. All the beds were empty of patients and Nurse Jabara, the only nurse on duty so early into the morning shift, was engaged in purely administrative tasks. If she was surprised to see Julian, she didn’t comment on it. 

Julian retired to his office after exchanging a cordial greeting with Nurse Jabara, who seemed to recognize his need for normality. As he sat down he had the same unshakeable impression that someone else had disturbed the chaotic sense of order that he’d instilled upon his office. Nothing was where it was supposed to be. He scowled and set to working re-organizing his things. 

He didn’t get very far into his clean-up. Within ten minutes of his arrival to the Infirmary, he was summoned to Captains Sisko’s office. It wasn’t hard to figure out who had told Sisko of his whereabouts. As he left his office he gave Nurse Jabara a mock glare for her interference, but she simply shrugged, evidently not feeling the slightest bit of guilt over it. 

Ops was unusually silent when he arrived, lacking the casually-flung status updates or cheerful banter between crew members. Today, no one spoke. All eyes were on him when he entered the room. Kira and Miles were both on duty, their movements almost synchronous as they gave him encouraging nods. In spite of their good intentions, it made Julian feel even more on-edge and nervous about his impending conversation with Sisko - a ridiculous thought since he hadn’t done anything wrong. Still, he was irrationally worried that he might’ve disappointed him. 

Permission to enter Sisko’s office was quickly granted and Julian entered the room, respectfully folding his arms behind him as he waited by the door until Sisko acknowledged him. Sisko sat perfectly poised, his chair angled to face his window. He tossed his prized baseball in one hand, a sign that he was currently deep in thought. At the sound of the door closing, Sisko turned and gave Julian a grave nod. He gestured at the chair placed in front of his desk. 

“Please take a seat, Doctor.” 

Julian did so with reserved formality, trying not to fidget in his chair like some wet-behind-the-ears ensign. He watched as Sisko placed his baseball back on its stand with reverential care, steepled his fingers in front of him, and pivoted his body towards Julian. 

“I heard you reported for duty this morning,” Sisko stated, his face not betraying any judgement over the news. 

Julian nodded, and Sisko reached across his desk to pick up the solitary PADD that had been laying on his desk, holding it up for Julian to see. 

“You don’t think it’s too early for you to return to your duties?” Sisko questioned him. 

“I think I can handle it, Sir,” Julian replied. 

“Interesting; I disagree,” Sisko said mildly. “I disagree because I read through your report this morning. Not something I was looking forward to doing given the circumstances. And my instincts proved correct. It wasn’t exactly light reading. I would think a month imprisoned in the conditions you dealt with warrants at least a week’s worth of shore leave, don’t you?” 

That was probably for the best, but Julian wasn’t sure if he was entirely happy about that decision, though it didn’t seem like he had much of a choice. 

“Is that an order, Sir?” 

“Only if I have to make it one, Lieutenant, though I appreciate it when my senior officers know when to take a hint.”

Julian cracked a smile. 

“Understood, Sir.” 

“Good.” 

That business now settled, Sisko waved the PADD in the air one last time before placing it back on his desk. “I was also surprised to discover that we were a bit…hasty in our assessment of Mister Garak’s death the previous year.”

“Well, Garak does love to surprise,” Julian said dryly. 

Sisko hummed in apparent agreement. “Did Garak mention to you whether or not he planned to stay onboard the Station for the foreseeable future?” 

Julian shook his head. “No, he didn’t.” He hesitated and then added, “I do think that he’ll stay, I’m not sure where else he could go, but… he hasn’t exactly been very forthcoming about his plans. I can’t say for sure.” 

Sisko sighed, confronted with yet another problem he had to solve. “In that case,” he said, “I think I’ll be organizing a little chat with Mister Garak to figure out what exactly he has planned. In the meantime, do try and keep him out of trouble.” 

“I’ll do my best, Sir.” Julian would make no firm promises on that front. 

A beat of silence passed, and Julian spoke up hesitantly. 

“Will there be anything else, Sir?”

“Yes,” Sisko said, slowly; deliberately; his sharp eyes now alight with steely purpose. “If only to say that I was very troubled when I learnt just how long the Changeling managed to live under our noses without any of us realizing – that a member of my crew was in danger and I was unaware of it the whole time. I recognize that a circumstance like this is something anyone would be hard-pressed to come to terms with, but Doctor, I speak for myself and for the entirety of the crew when I say that we’re all very glad to have you back. You have our full support if you need an extra few days to get back into the swing of things. I wanted you to know that.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Julian said, moved by the Captain’s admission. 

“Your report was thorough enough that I think a full debriefing isn’t needed. I’ll give you a status update once your shore leave is over,” Sisko said. Then he was all smiles, no longer acting as the formal and reserved Captain. “Now, I don’t want to keep you from your shore leave any longer. I gave Chief O’Brien strict orders not to bother you yesterday evening, but given that my embargo has since lifted, I gather I shouldn’t be surprised if I see you at Quark’s tonight?”

Julian shook his head and shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face as he stood from his chair. There was no use in denying it. 

There was one final question that had started to nag at him. Julian stopped short of the door and turned back around with a curious expression that Sisko immediately observed. 

“Yes, Lieutenant?” 

“If I can just ask before I go, whatever happened to the Changeling? Commander Worf told me that you had apprehended it once you received our message. Is it-,” Julian swallowed and continued, “is it still onboard the Station? I’d like to speak to it if I could.”

Sisko’s expression changed dramatically from polite interest to stern warning; a look aimed to dispel any further questions. Julian nearly shrank back upon seeing it. He hadn’t expected such a blunt reaction from Sisko. It felt almost like a rebuke. 

“The Changeling was escorted off the Station for questioning by Starfleet Intelligence a few days after it was discovered. It’s out of our hands now. You should consider the matter closed.”

Julian nodded silently to show he understood. Sisko’s face relaxed though the hard glint in his eyes didn’t fully disappear. 

“Enjoy your shore leave, Doctor Bashir,” he said, dismissing Julian with a solemn nod. He swiveled his chair away to face his window once again. 

“Thank you, Sir.” 

Julian left. 

 

After a few days, Julian had to admit that shore leave had been a good idea. He’d had time to rest and relax. Miles had taken for drinks. His quarters were starting to feel like they belonged to him again. Things were, for the most part, going quite well. 

Though not every aspect of his reintegration was going as smoothly as Julian had hoped. 

For one, he was getting tired of answering the same questions over and over. Yes, he really was fine; yes, it was a dreadful experience being imprisoned, but he’d pulled through; yes, he was just as surprised as everyone else to learn that Garak had been alive this whole time. 

He especially hated it whenever the conversation would reference the Changeling who had taken his place, the topic always initiated by a nervous apology and concluded by an expressed bewilderment that no one had even suspected that Julian had been replaced. No one meant to be cruel by it, but that didn’t make the confirmation sting any less. Julian wondered just how long he would end up carrying around this feeling of resentment that no one had realized he'd been replaced. He suspected it would take quite awhile. 

Most frustratingly of all, there was still no sign of Garak. 

A full year imprisoned in a remote and unforgiving Dominion prison camp hadn’t resulted in Garak losing his talent for vanishing in plain sight whenever he didn’t want to be found, and if Garak had proved himself adept at evading Julian when they were in a small prison camp than Julian recognized that he had no chance of finding him on a crowded space station. It should have been easy enough to find him, and Julian had resorted to asking the computer for Garak’s whereabouts more than once, but Garak either never answered the chime to his quarters or was long gone by the time Julian reached his last known location. The only information he'd managed to find out after asking around was that Garak hadn’t left the Station and there'd been no passenger manifests bearing his name. But, even that wasn't certain. 

The chime to his quarters rang, interrupting his evening musings. Julian instinctively straightened up in his chair and he looked to the door, hope rising unbidden in his chest as he called to his guest to enter. He didn’t truly expect to see Garak on the other side but he felt a heavy pang of disappointment all the same when Jadzia walked into his quarters. 

“I wanted to stop by and see how you were doing but I guess I’m not the person you were hoping to see,” she observed with a smile, evidently not taking offense. She made herself comfortable on his couch, crossing one leg overtop of the other.

Julian groaned; he hadn’t meant to make his disappointment so obvious. Jadzia didn’t deserve that. 

“I’m sorry, Jadzia. It’s not you, really, it’s just been an exhausting few days.” 

“Really? I’m sure that if it was Garak who walked through your door, you’d be a bit more excited,” she said, casting a playful look at him from the corner of her eye. 

Julian looked back, astonished. 

“How did you…?”

“I knew there was something going on between the two of you!” she exclaimed with a note of triumph in her voice. She leaned back in her chair with an air of self-congratulation, folding her arms to her chest. “Worf didn’t believe me when I told him, but I could tell. Neither of you were exactly subtle about it.” 

Julian sat listlessly in his chair, completely failing to match Jadzia’s excited grin, and, at seeing Julian’s muted response, and Jadzia quickly adopted a look of concern. 

“What’s wrong?”

He picked at the stray pieces of lint collecting on his armchair, his eyes drawn down to his knees. He shrugged.

“It’s only… I’m not so sure there is anything going on anymore.” 

“Tell me,” Jadzia demanded. She leaned forwards, setting both her feet back down on the ground and looked to Julian expectantly. 

It felt like he’d gone full circle to back before this whole mess had started: back to when he’d been about to leave for his conference. Jadzia had been persistent in trying to draw out Julian’s grief while Julian had steadfastly refused to talk about Garak’s death and his repressed feelings for him because he’d found the prospect simply too difficult, impossible even. Now he was in the exact same situation, except those feelings were no longer a secret. 

Julian shrugged a second time. 

“Oh no,” Jadzia said, shaking her head. “You’re not getting out of this so easily. You still owe me a conversation, remember? You promised me before you left for your conference that we would talk.”

“I don’t think that this is quite what we agreed to,” Julian argued weakly. 

All Jadzia had to do was raise an eyebrow at him and his resistance crumpled. 

He explained everything: his reaction at seeing Garak alive and well and their reunion, the massage and Tain’s disapproval that led to Garak’s attempt to cut contact with Julian, their kiss in the barracks after his stint in isolation, Tain’s death, and now Garak’s disappearing act and the precarious standing of their relationship. Few details were spared: the only thing he kept to himself was the revelation of Garak’s true parentage. 

Jadzia was an attentive listener, even when his story shifted into an unrestrained rant about Cardassian elusiveness, she let him voice his frustrations without a single interruption. By the time he finally finished, Julian felt much better, but Jadzia’s mood had discernably changed. She was looking at him in evident frustration, shaking her head and tapping two of her fingers against her knee. 

“The two of you,” she admonished.

Indignantly, Julian shifted back in his seat. 

“What did I do?” 

“Garak definitely still has feelings for you, Julian,” she answered him, as if that were obvious. 

Julian found that hard to believe, and he scoffed. After all, Garak had spent the last three days avoiding him. How exactly that was supposed to assure him that Garak still had feelings for him was beyond him. 

“You can’t know that.”

“I do know that,” she informed him and then, calming down, she sighed and said, “I know that because I wasn’t the one who transported us out of that Dominion prison camp: it was Garak. He’s the one who saved you and Worf from the combat ring – not me.”

Julian looked up at Jadzia, confused. “It was?”

She nodded. “I’ve never seen him look as terrified than when that Jem’Hadar took you away. As soon as they left the barracks, he had me get out of that crawlspace, convinced that he could get us all transported to the ship faster than I could.” She hesitated, and then after a short pause said, “He was right.”

That was new, although not unwelcome, information. It explained why they’d all been transported away so quickly. Between the two of them, Garak had a far better understanding of the crawlspace’s circuitry after working with it for over a week compared to Jadzia’s single evening. But then it also meant that Garak had been willing to brave his claustrophobia for him. If Garak hadn’t willingly faced his crippling phobia a second time, Julian knew that he would’ve died in that combat ring.

But it didn’t completely take away from all the hurt and frustration that had been building over the past few days. He shook his head sadly. 

“Then why would he be avoiding me?” 

This time it was Jadzia’s turn to shrug. 

“You’ll have to ask Garak, not me.”

“Trust me, there’s nothing I’d rather do,” Julian said. He leaned his head on the back of his chair and stared up at the ceiling, disheartened. “I can’t find him anywhere – I don’t think he wants to be found. I don’t even know if he’s still on the Station.” 

And then, for the second time that evening, the door chime rang. 

Julian groaned at the interruption, softly closing his eyes. It was probably Miles, stopping by after his shift to entice Julian over to Quark’s for another evening of drinks. In all honesty, Julian was rather tempted to take him up on the offer. He called for his visitor to enter. 

He hadn’t expected to see Garak step inside his quarters, and it appeared that Garak hadn’t expected to find Julian entertaining visitors so late in the evening because he froze in place as soon as he saw Jadzia. Garak looked at the two of them uncertainly as if awaiting directions. 

“Am I interrupting?” he asked, and he shifted back towards the door.

“Not at all,” Jadzia said. She sprang to her feet and bounded away towards the door with a bounce to her step before Julian could get a word in. “I was just on my way out actually.” 

She paused, giving Julian an impish look. “Good night, Julian,” she said as the door closed shut. 

With Jadzia gone, Julian and Garak observed one another; both of them aware of the growing awkwardness as the silence persisted. It seemed neither of them wanted to be the one to speak first because, despite Jadzia’s insinuation to the contrary, this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. There was certainly no guarantee that things would end well. 

But it still had to be done. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” Julian said, and he failed to catch the note of bitterness that slipped into his words; turning what was supposed to be a neutral observation into a frustrated accusation. 

“I know,” Garak said, without a hint of an apology. He remained standing, half-turned towards the door and looking every bit as defensive and guarded as he had on the runabout. “I found myself otherwise occupied.” 

“Doing what, exactly?” 

“Readjusting.” Garak said simply. As if that explained away everything. 

Which, in a way, Julian supposed it did. 

“I think I know what you mean by that,” Julian muttered. Garak looked at him with a curious expression, not immediately grasping his meaning. At once, the realization dawned on him and he made a face of sympathetic understanding. 

“Ah, but of course you do. The Changeling.”

“It’s no longer on the Station,” Julian told him, despondent. “That’s all Captain Sisko would tell me.” Julian shook his head. “Except that Changeling lived on this Station for nearly a month without anyone realizing, without anyone suspecting. All I want is to understand how that could’ve happened. I think I deserve some answers.”

“Sometimes answers do more harm than good," Garak said. "I’m sure Captain Sisko meant no harm; he merely didn’t want you to overanalyze the situation.” 

“As I’m sure you haven’t spent the last few days doing,” Julian said sarcastically. 

“There’s been a lot to think about,” Garak said, his voice mild but tired. He finally stopped hovering and sat in Jadzia’s recently vacated spot. “These past few days have been exceptionally trying.” 

“How so?” Julian pushed. 

At his question, Garak’s lips pulled back into a grimace that was just as quickly replaced by a humourless laugh. 

“A fair question. I suppose it’s not the first time that I’ve arrived on this Station with practically nothing. Though this time, I truly have nothing… my old quarters have been reassigned, my shop is gone, my rather meager collection of personal belongings disposed of. Even my last hope of returning to Cardassia died with Tain, though I might have snuffed that possibility out far earlier.”

Garak’s tone was flippant, as if he were relaying something worthy of amusement rather than explaining the hardship he’d had to come to terms with over the past few days; his typical defence mechanism. The hardness in Julian’s face lessened in the face of Garak’s honesty. 

“Where have you been all this time?”

“Captain Sisko is allowing me use one of the Station’s guest quarters until a more permanent location becomes available. Actually,” Garak continued with a pointed look at Julian, “your Captain and I had a very long conversation the morning after our arrival. He seemed to be under the impression that he needs to keep a close eye on me.” Garak paused, and added, “Which is why I believe he asked me to consider lending my services to the Federation.”

Julian started.

“He did?”

“Don’t get too excited yet Doctor; I haven’t given him my final decision yet, and my role would be limited to a purely advisory function – one that would probably make use of my skills in deciphering Cardassian military code.” He sighed. “It seems that your Captain and I share the same concerns of Dukat’s second ascension to the upper echelons of the military as well as the rather precarious standing of the Depeta Council in the face of these Klingon attacks.” 

Julian thought the Captain’s offer was wonderful news, and he nearly voiced as such before catching himself just in time. No doubt Sisko’s offer sat uncomfortably with Garak, who likely saw the request as putting him to work against his own people. Instead, Julian only nodded, accepting the news for what it was.

“I’m sure that you’ll make the right decision,” Julian told him, “But you still haven’t explained why you’ve come to see me now after days of avoiding me. What’s the matter?” 

Garak kept his unblinking gaze focused on Julian. His head tilted in apparent confusion. “Must you always be so distrustful of my motives, Doctor? There’s nothing the matter.”

Julian shook his head and scoffed. “Coming from you, that’s a pretty unconvincing lie. There’s something else on your mind.” 

Garak sighed. He spoke stiffly, as if worried that his voice would betray him. 

“If you’re going to insist upon the question – I came to tell you that I understand if you wish to…forget about certain events that happened between us now that we’ve returned to the Station.” 

Julian looked at Garak, resigned. 

“I don’t want to do that, Garak.”

Garak didn’t seem convinced. “I wouldn't be offended, and things would be considerably easier for you if we didn’t speak of it again,” Garak argued. “Your colleagues certainly don’t approve.”

“I think you’re being paranoid. No one knows about us, Garak.” 

A hint of a smile perked up on Garak’s face, amused by Julian’s ignorance. 

“You need to pay more attention, Doctor; it’s the most poorly-kept secret on this Station, and I think we have your friend Lieutenant Dax to thank for that.” 

Julian couldn’t help but groan in exasperation and he raised his hand to cover his face, which only sparked a wider smile from Garak. Just as quickly Garak’s smile disappeared. He frowned deeply. 

“You have to understand, Doctor, I spent over a year in that prison camp – one long year with nothing to do with my time except reflect upon my life. You might have glamourous notions of what spy work entails, but I’ve done terrible things, and I did them with the best interests of Cardassia in mind. I know who I am. I feel almost no guilt. But you, Doctor, you’re not like me: you’re kind and compassionate and strong. But you’ve changed since we last knew each other one year ago, however slightly, and I fear that this looming war with the Dominion will only present more opportunities to corrupt you. The last thing you need is any entanglement with me.” 

“And I thought I had made myself clear: this is what I want,” Julian said firmly. “A relationship with you isn’t going to change who I am, and I don’t expect you to change who you are either. People on the Station might not like it, but no one’s surprised by it, and I can live with the rumours. I don’t need you to unilaterally decide that I would be better off without you… unless this is actually what you want? For us to pretend like it never happened?” 

A long pause elapsed. 

“No, it isn’t,” Garak said. 

Julian let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” he admitted. 

Suddenly, nothing was more important than bridging the distance between them. Garak rose to his feet as Julian approached him, the uncertainty in his eyes undiminished. Julian slid into Garak’s arms, wordlessly asking permission as he leaned towards the older Cardassian, who responded by surging forward to capture Julian’s lips in his. They kissed, tentatively at first but with an undeniable enthusiasm. Their first kiss in the barracks had been frantic and rushed, an honest expression of need and a desire for comfort that had nearly been tainted by despair and fear. This was a vast improvement; a simple, unhurried exploration of one another. Julian let his hands wander through soft hair and scales, enjoying the new sensations. 

Julian used his newly-gained knowledge of Cardassian anatomy to his advantage by lavishing more attention to Garak’s shoulders, gently massaging them while they kissed. His efforts paid off handsomely. Garak emitted a low growl, and Julian was pulled solidly against Garak’s body, sparking a flare of pleasure that made them both gasp. Their kiss deepened, and Julian made no effort to conceal his delight as their movements grew more heated. 

“Perhaps we should-” Garak’s suggestion was cut off by a sharp inhale when Julian nipped the side of his ear and lowered his hand further down Garak’s lower back. 

“Move to the bed?” Julian said, finishing Garak’s sentence for him. 

In full agreement, Garak began pulling Julian towards the bedroom, which caused Julian to stumble forward and let out an undignified giggle when Garak caught him. They somehow made it to the bedroom without falling over again and Julian leaned against the bed, Garak trapping him against it as he kissed him again.

Desperate now to see more skin, Julian put his hands under Garak’s shirt and started to move the silky fabric up Garak’s body. His progress was halted almost immediately when Garak’s strong hands clasped around his wrists to hold Julian firmly in place. 

“Let me do this first,” Garak breathed into his ear, and Julian listened, reluctantly lowering his arms to his side. 

Their eyes locked as Garak slowly divested Julian of his clothes until he was nearly nude. Julian was gently pushed down onto the bed and Garak hooked his fingers under the waistband of Julian’s underwear, pulling them down his body in a slow, fluid motion. Julian raised his hips to help speed things along, sighing at the spark of pleasure it produced. 

Garak looked him over with almost naked appreciation that would've had Julian blushing if he was any less self-assured. Emboldened, Garak initiated another deep kiss that had Julian closing his eyes to better enjoy the heightened sensations. He shivered from anticipation, his desire building, and he gasped in surprise when Garak took him in his hand, lightly stroking him. Julian arched into the contact with a groan, grasping Garak’s shirt in a tight fist.

Without warning, Garak suddenly pulled away, and Julian whined softly in protest, unhappy at the sudden lack of contact. He opened his eyes to see that Garak was carefully folding his shirt at the foot of the bed. Garak settled by Julian's knees, and Julian realized with a jolt what he planned to do next. 

“Are you sure?” Julian managed to say. Oh, how he wanted this. 

Garak smirked at him and then all Julian knew was bliss. The warmth of Garak’s mouth enveloping him and his clever tongue was almost too much. Julian lasted an embarrassingly short amount of time when Garak eventually drew away to use his hands to finish him off. 

When it was over, Julian let out a huff of air as he slumped back into his pillow, feeling sated and delightfully lazy. He felt Garak crawl up his body to lie next to him, his breath tickling the back of his neck. 

“Your turn now,” Julian mumbled into his pillow. 

Garak chuckled softly. “Are you sure? You seem quite comfortable right now,” he teased, running his hands lightly over Julian’s chest in a way that made Julian shiver. “It can wait.” 

Julian opened one eye and turned over to glare half-heartedly at his lover who looked exactly like the cat who got the cream. “We’ll see who’s laughing in a minute,” Julian grumbled, a promise in his eyes as he lowered his voice to a growl. “Take off your trousers.” The order caused Garak’s shoulders to darken from arousal as he hurriedly complied. 

“If I knew you were so talented I would have propositioned you when we first met,” Garak said much later, breathing heavily as the heat of pleasure slowly subsided. 

“You practically did,” Julian responded cheekily, tossing Garak a tissue to wipe up the mess. He closed his eyes, curled onto his side and nestled himself against Garak’s solid form, feeling Garak’s chest rumble as he exhaled a quiet laugh. Garak threw an arm over Julian’s chest and pulled him closer.

“I never thought it would ever be a possibility,” Garak murmured. Julian hummed, but he was too close to the edge of sleep – too warm, safe and content – to respond. 

Soon, he was fast asleep. 

 

When Julian awoke the next morning, he was disappointed but unsurprised to find that Garak was no longer in bed. The sheets and tussled blanket beside him were cool to the touch, suggesting that Garak had left some time ago. Julian quickly left the bed and headed for his living area, hoping to find Garak waiting for him there, but the room was just as empty as his bed. 

Julian blew out a huff of breath, frustrated. Even Cardassian social niceties must consider sneaking out on one’s lover as exceptionally rude. But if Garak was having second thoughts – again – there was no doubt that finding him was going to prove to be a challenge in itself. 

Which is how Julian found himself sitting alone at the Replimat later that day, hoping to spot Garak in the crowds of people walking by during the busy lunch hour. He sat alone, with his chin rested in his hand, despondently stirring his Tarkalean tea. Would-be diners prowling to find a free spot were throwing him irritated glares for taking up such a coveted space. Julian couldn’t will himself to care. He took another small sip of his tea, now lukewarm. 

His apathy lasted up until an annoyed Odo came into view, blustering through the crowd towards him with his typical no-nonsense glare. That didn’t bode well. Julian immediately straightened up in his seat and tried to adopt an innocent expression. 

“Loitering, Doctor Bashir?” Odo asked him. 

“No, of course not.” Julian replied. 

“I’ve had reports that you’ve been sitting here for an inordinately long time. At least a few hours. Far longer than what is needed to drink such a small cup of tea, wouldn't you say?.” 

Julian looked at Odo sheepishly. “Well, I…you see…” 

“Are you aware that according to Station rules, loitering is a minor offence that can be punishable by fine? I may have no choice in the matter.”

“A fine? I’m not even loitering,” Julian protested, and his tea sloshed over the side of his cup as he raised his hands in the air in outrage. 

Odo leaned in and lowered his voice. “However, if you’ve selected this spot in the hopes of finding Mister Garak, I believe that I saw him in the Observation Lounge not too long ago.” 

Julian slowly placed his tea back on the table, speechless. 

“Oh…well…thank you, Odo.” 

“Make no mention of it,” Odo said, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder. He cleared his throat and straightened up; his voice louder so he could be heard over the noisy prattle of the Replimat. “Now, if you don’t mind Doctor, I think you’ve taken up this spot for long enough now.” 

Julian had left his seat before Odo had scarcely finished his sentence. The Observation Lounge would take him at least ten minutes to get to and he had to hurry to make sure Garak was still there. 

Luck was on his side today. The doors to the Observation Lounge opened to reveal Garak: standing alone in the dark empty room; his face hidden by shadow and the outline of his body illuminated by the cold, white-blue starlight filtering in through the curved window. His back was to Julian and he barely reacted when the door opened. He just continued to stare out the window with a single-minded intensity. 

Julian was about to announce his presence when Garak spoke up. 

“Is that you, Doctor?” 

Julian sighed, wondering when he had become so transparent to everyone around him. 

“Yes, it’s me.” 

Garak chuckled, amused. 

“Have you come to join me?”

“If I’m not disturbing you,” Julian replied, continuing to linger uncertainly by the door. 

“Never,” Garak said, his words a playful drawl. He kept his eyes resolutely focused on the wormhole as Julian sided up next to him, crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked over at Garak with a frown. 

“I’ve been looking for you nearly all day,” he chided. “Odo had to tell me where to find you. You need to stop these disappearing acts of yours.” 

Garak shrugged; old habits die hard apparently. 

“I had an early morning meeting with your Captain, at his insistence; I didn’t think it necessary to wake you up because of it,” he explained to Julian. “As for not returning to your quarters – I found that the outcome of my discussion with your Captain begged for some additional contemplation.” 

“Does that mean you accepted the Captain’s offer?” Julian asked eagerly.

“It means that I didn’t decline,” Garak responded, a bit unhappily. “I don’t trust Dukat – he doesn’t care about Cardassia; he’s far more concerned with his own ego. That man is liable to draw Cardassia further into a war we would be woefully unequipped to win.”

“I suppose that this means you’ll be staying on the Station after all?” 

“It does, despite the risk to my personal safety.” At Julian’s questioning look, Garak smiled. “Before my meeting with your Captain, Major Kira threatened some rather extreme actions against my person if I were to ever hurt you. And then I was accosted by Mister O’Brien: apparently you had a very difficult time adjusting to my presumed death, and he warned me that if I were to hurt you he would ‘clean my clocks’. I suspect that was less of a kind offer and more of a threat.”

“That’s about the gist of it, yes.” 

“I thought so. There’s also the matter of my accommodations that still needs to be arranged, but the Captain said that would be handled by Starfleet as payment for my services.” 

“You could stay with me instead,” Julian blurted. Garak looked at him, eyes wide in surprise, and while Julian hadn’t planned to make the offer, he didn’t regret it. The offer was a sincere one. 

Garak phrased his reply carefully. “While I certainly appreciate the kind gesture, that seems to be an excessively generous offer.” 

“Not generous at all. I want you around.”

Garak looked at him skeptically. 

“Need I remind you that your quarters are meant for a single person not for two; it will begin to feel very crowded very quickly.”

Julian frowned. 

“Garak, we spent nearly an entire month in prison together, nearly all of it in one small room with four other people. I think we can manage sharing my quarters together. It’ll be practically lavish in comparison. Plus,” he added, raising his eyebrows suggestively, “we’ll have more privacy in my quarters then we ever did in that Dominion Camp.”

Garak didn’t rise to Julian’s teasing insinuation; he looked deadly serious as he met Julian’s gaze.

“Are you absolutely sure about this, Doctor?”

“My dear Mister Garak,” Julian said, “I’ve never been surer of anything.”

“Than it seems I have no choice but to accept,” Garak said. Then, he chuckled as he turned forward to stare outside the window again, and Julian stared back at him, bemused. 

“Is something funny?”

Garak shook his head. “I merely find this whole situation to be so unexpected, not at all how I imagined it would turn out. I had every intention of leaving the Station today before our chat last night.” 

Buoyant with happiness that Garak had changed his mind, Julian wrapped his arm around Garak’s midsection. The act caused Garak to momentarily stiffen but he gradually relaxed into Julian’s embrace. 

“I’m glad you decided otherwise,” Julian said. 

Garak smiled, not his usual smile without any feelings attached to it, but an earnest expression of contentedness. 

“As am I, Julian.”

They stayed together staring out into the stars for a long time. There was still darkness on the horizon. Everyone knew that war was brewing in the Alpha Quadrant as the Dominion silently gathered its strength. But, for a brief moment, Julian allowed himself to forget all that. No matter what was coming, no matter what new trials they would have to face, they would face it together. And that, Julian knew, would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely hope you enjoyed the final chapter. As always, a huge thank you to everyone who either kudos'ed or commented on this fic. I say this every time because it's true: I appreciate every single one.


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